In Another Universe: Arrow Edition
by wannabeWriter888
Summary: A collection of one-shots and short stories taking characters from the Arrowverse and putting them into some of my other favorite shows/movies/books. Lauriver featured often, some Dyla and Theroy.
1. Table of Contents

_Disclaimer: I do not own _Arrow_, _the Flash_, or any other show in the Arrowverse or its characters nor the comics they are (loosely) based on. I'm merely playing with them for my own amusement._

**A/N:** This is going to be a collection of one-shots or short stories that take the Arrowverse characters, primarily from _Arrow_, and merge them with some of my other favorite shows. I will also include short rewrites/episode tags here. I've labeled this one the Arrow Edition because I plan to do this with other shows I like later. I'm providing a Table and Key to make navigation easier.

I will take requests – but not for Olicity, because there are enough of those fics out there. If this isn't something you'd like, please don't bash me in reviews. Thank you.

Positive review and constructive criticism are appreciated!

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Table of Contents

Key –

Fusion: means I've taken a pre-existing world and added the Arrowverse characters to it.

Based: means I've taken the mythology and premise of a show, added the Arrowverse characters and changed the mythology/premise as needed to fit the story I had in mind.

Revision: means I've taken a premise of a show and swapped out the original characters with Arrowverse characters.

Tag: should be self-explanatory, except in my case it will probably be non-cannon compliant.

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1) Travel the Stars:

Fusion with _Stargate: Atlantis_. Lauriver-centric, some Dyla.

2) Moonlight Curse:

Based on _the Originals_. Lauriver with angst (I think so, someone tell me if not), hints of Theroy.

3) No Rest for the Wicked:

Revision of _Common Law_. Dinah/Laurel friendship is the focus. Some Lauriver, but they're not together. Other couples mentioned.

4) Differences Desired

Tag to Season 6, Episode 9: Irreconcilable Differences. A different way the divide could've gone down.

5) Me & You, Forever

Revision of _The Vampire Diaries_. Lauriver with Dyla and some Sara/Tommy (not sure their couple name).

6) The Laurel

Revision of _HIMYM_. Lauriver again with background Dyla.

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**A/N2**: I'm thinking of adding a short description of each story in the Table, would anyone be interested in that?


	2. Travel the Stars

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not _Arrow_ or _Stargate: Atlantis_ \- though I am a die-hard fan of the last one._

**A/N:** This story came about because Jason Momoa played Ronon Dex on _Stargate: Atlantis_ and now he's Aquaman in the DC Extended Universe. Also, David Nykl plays characters I love on both shows. It's also the fusion that inspired this entire collection.

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Travel the Stars

Oliver woke to a searing pain on his side. He instinctively moved to sit up and assess his injuries, but his wound had him flopping back onto the bed after barely rising an inch. Sweat prickled his skin, the pain flared in one massive throb, and Oliver bit his lip to muffle his groan. His hand found the edge of his wound, on the left side of his abdomen. Could've been worse, though the pain wanted him to think otherwise.

The details prior to his waking trickled back in. The mission had started out normally enough, which guaranteed nothing in the Pegasus galaxy. Oliver had led his team, AR-7, through the Stargate for a potential first contact mission – the MALP had detected radio transmissions and higher levels of greenhouse gases. Together, both suggested a more industrialized society than those they normally met, though hopefully not another case of the Genii. As one of the few AR teams with a Pegasus native, Oliver's team was often tapped for discovery missions.

They'd stepped onto M8A-125 and things had progressively gone downhill from there. They'd headed in the direction of the transmissions source. The team's resident nerd, Dr. Felicity Smoak, had been trying different frequencies. They'd trekked half a klick through dense forest with no response to their calls when they'd reached a ravine. Roy, their neighborhood native from a planet called the Glades, had spotted signs of human tracks. They hadn't figured out how the people crossed the ravine, but somehow the tracks simply disappeared in a small clearing.

Oliver had spotted a leaning tree. Between him and Major John Diggle, they managed to topple the tree the rest of the way, creating a rudimentary bridge. The tree wasn't particularly thick, so Oliver had crossed it alone as a test. The tree had held his weight, but when he'd been about three-fourths of the way across, he'd been zapped. A jolt from an unseen source had snapped through his body, making every muscle clench. He'd fallen off the tree, unable to move. The fall hadn't been as far as he'd expected, though his landing had been punctuated with a stabbing pain to his left side. He'd heard his teammates shouting, had meant to call back to them, but then he'd passed out.

He'd landed on his side in the deceptive ravine. He'd been fully dressed in his BDU's, tac vest, and boots. Now he lay on his back and he'd been stripped of his shirts and boots. Oliver turned his head from the too-bright lights above and saw familiar looking gray-green walls.

Pant legs obscured his vision, then a woman with dirty blonde hair and green eyes knelt before him. "Try not to move. You had a bad fall, but you're safe now." She pressed a cool hand to his head, gently brushing through his short hair. Her touch felt nice, soothing.

"Where am I?" Oliver asked, but he could feel himself slipping back into unconsciousness; "Who are you, angel?"

Her hand stilled, which was disappointing. Yet he found she'd leaned over him, a rueful smile on her lips. His last thought before he drifted away was that she had a very beautiful smile.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

When Oliver woke again, the pain in his side had decreased. He was thirsty and hot under a thick, green blanket. But more than anything, he was acutely aware of her presence.

"Ah, you're awake. Feeling better?" she asked as Oliver eased the blanket down to his hips. "Yes," he grunted, trying to inch his way to a sitting position using his elbows.

"Let me help you," she pressed one hand to his back and grabbed his arm. After a little maneuvering, he leaned against the headboard. The effort left him sweating and a little dizzy. She pressed a cup to his lips and he drank greedily. Cold water soothed his throat and cleared his head. "Thank you."

His helper replaced the empty cup on the stand next to his bed. While she was occupied, Oliver assessed his surroundings. He was in a studio style apartment, much like the one he had back on Atlantis. His bed sat in a small alcove with a window that let in daylight. The far wall of his alcove had an arched doorway, likely his private bathroom. Beyond the alcove was an open space which held the bare minimum of functionality – there was a rug, a table, and two metal chairs. He couldn't see one corner of his room, hidden behind the bathroom, but light shown in from there as well. He caught his caretaker watching him and smiled at her. "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Oliver Queen with the United States Air Force. Who are you?"

"My name is Laurel Lance, Lieutenant," she sat on the edge of the bed and smiled at him in return. Hers really was a beautiful smile.

"Oliver, please. Lieutenant Colonel is my rank."

"Oliver," Laurel dipped her head in acknowledgement, and he caught a whiff of her scent, lavender and something spicy; "Your military rank?"

"Yes," he confirmed, glad to see the idea didn't offend her. Sometimes it worried the natives when alien warriors visited; "Where am I?"

"I'm afraid I'm not allowed to say, at least not yet. Why did you come to this world?" Laurel pushed back her hair and when she set her hand on the bed again, their fingers brushed.

"My people are explorers. We travel the stars to meet new people, to seek alliances and trading partners. We found evidence of life on this planet and we were hoping to learn about your people, if nothing else."

"Where do you come from?"

"Earth," Oliver told her the truth, but left out he was from Atlantis. Pegasus natives often got the wrong idea when one led with that tidbit.

"You say you're an explorer seeking to meet and understand new people, yet you carried weapons of war on you."

"Not war, protection. Not everyone we meet is friendly."

Laurel nodded, acquiescing to his point. "Do you mean my people harm?"

"No, so long as they don't mean me harm."

"We do not, and you are growing tired," Laurel tilted her head, assessing him as a patient once more. Oliver found himself thinking he'd much rather have her assess him as a man; he was wholly aware of her as a woman; "Rest, Oliver. You are safe here. We'll talk more later."

"Holding you to that, angel," he murmured as Laurel tucked a pillow behind his head and sleep tugged him to darkness once more.

Laurel bit her lip, brow furrowed, a question in her eyes. Oliver reached up his hand and traced a finger along her cheek. He wanted to smooth her frown away, to see her mesmerizing grin. He almost got his wish, the hint of a smile on her lips as he drifted off.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Oliver leaned against the wall, pausing to catch his breath. Laurel wanted him up and walking, to keep his muscles working but to take things slow so he didn't pull his stitches. They'd been meandering up and down the hall outside his room. Between the blood loss and the throbbing, Oliver knew he had a couple more days of healing before he returned to normal.

After checking his bandages, Laurel leaned next to Oliver. She smelled of vanilla and that rich spice today. Their shoulders brushed, and Oliver found her presence a nice distraction from his wound and thoughts. They hadn't discussed anything of real importance since they exchanged names, but that was likely for the best. Oliver had a feeling if he got to know Laurel too well, he'd probably have trouble going home without her.

"Did your people build this city?" he gestured to the place that reminded him so much of Atlantis. He needed to distract himself from studying her profile. The shirt she wore today accented every curve.

From what he'd seen of Laurel's home so far, the place really was like Atlantis with a few subtle differences. The green in the gray-toned walls was the first change. Then there were the window panels. As Felicity had once informed him, the windows of Atlantis weren't filled with glass but a hardier synthetic compound that looked and felt like glass. On this world, he'd seen several rooms with windows devoid of that paneling and in his own he'd discovered carefully fitted glass with a few impurities. Also, while the rooms and hall he'd passed had the same built-in lighting as Atlantis, those sconces weren't in use. A secondary light system had been installed instead, complete with wires and switches. Finally, there was all sorts of vegetation growing in pots and troughs in what little of the city he'd seen. He'd even spotted what looked like a garden from his window on what would be a landing pad back on Atlantis.

"We didn't build our home," Laurel answered him after a thoughtful second; "The Ancestors brought my people here long ago. They gave us this place as a safe haven."

"Do you know the name the Ancestors called this place?" there was a database back on Atlantis of lost Lantean ships and cities. Most were found by accident, like this one, but each find was a victory for the expedition.

"I'm afraid that knowledge has been lost over generations. Now days, we call our home the Waverider," Laurel quirked a grin at her people's lack of ingenuity.

Oliver smirked in amusement, having had a good view of out his bedroom window. Like Atlantis, this city had been built to float if needed. From what he could tell, they were on an ocean, but the water was a lot choppier than New Lantea. Not that they could feel the waves this high up.

"Why do you ask?"

"My people found a city similar to yours in our explorations," Oliver paused, weighing whether or not he should reveal the truth to her. Laurel had been nothing but open to him thus far, so he took the plunge; "Our city is called Atlantis."

"We'd heard Atlantis sank millennia ago."

"It did, then it rose again."

"That must've been an impressive sight."

"It was breathtaking," Oliver admitted. Six years later and he could still recall every moment of the rising. First, the fear; the belief they were all going to die at the bottom of the ocean. Then confusion as the pressure around them changed, the city shifting sediment and water. At last, exhilaration. The sweet relief of death averted. The kiss of daylight and gleaming metal, of a city brought back to life.

The memory still sent shivers down his spine. Though a part of Oliver itched to say she was far more breathtaking, he refrained. He wasn't Colonel Sheppard, who was known for his flirtations off-world, and the occasional liaison. Oliver had no intentions of starting a dalliance he couldn't see through, but Laurel was the first woman to tempt him in a long time.

"Your people probably know a lot about this city, the scientists of mine would love a chance to learn from yours," Oliver saw an opening to broach the idea of an alliance. Laurel looked away, trying to cover up a grimace; "What's wrong?"

"My people have rules, Oliver," Laurel sighed and looked him in the eyes, apologetic; "We've survived this long because the city is cloaked, and no one knows our secrets. We have very few allies, and none know about Waverider. My people fear what would happen if outsiders knew the truth."

"What does that mean for me?" Oliver asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

"When your team left you for dead, I petitioned the Council to let me help you. They agreed on the condition you never leave," Laurel watched him worriedly. He could see the regret in her eyes, but the truth sucker-punched him in the gut.

"So, I'm a prisoner here," Oliver knew his tone was cold, that Laurel didn't deserve his anger after all she'd done for him. "Or would you prefer to call me a detained guest?"

"I'm sorry, Oliver."

He knew she was, but that didn't help him. He crossed the hall and punched the wall. The physical pain did nothing for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Laurel move toward him, reaching for him before thinking better of it. A good idea, because he wasn't certain what he'd do if she tried to help him now. Anger still coursed through his veins at his predicament, so he turned his back to Laurel and walked away. He needed to cool down and come up with a new game plan.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

John Diggle watched as Roy Harper trained against Ronon Dex of AR-1. The two Pegasus natives were using the fighting techniques of the Athosians, which Teyla Emmagan had taught them. They traded blows with wood sticks that reminded John of escrima sticks, but he knew these were heavier and longer than the Earth-made weapons.

Roy held his own against the Satedan, though the other man was taller and more muscular. Roy had nimbler feet and better reflexes on his side. Both former Runners were stubborn, viciously creative in their styles, and too used to surviving to call their match a draw even after a couple hours of sparring.

John wasn't ashamed to admit he wouldn't have last as long as Roy. Yes, John was a Marine with advanced combat training, but he'd also been trained in other specialties, including bomb diffusing. He could go toe-to-toe against other Marines, but he respected his limits when faced with more experienced opponents like Ronon Dex and Teyla Emmagan. Oliver, on the other hand, he . . .

The thought sprung unbidden in his mind and he forced himself to stop. The wound was too fresh. He'd lost his friend and teammate only a week ago. He considered it a personal failure – it should've been him first on the tree, not their team leader, but Oliver liked to lead in all endeavors. John knew it was unhealthy to blame himself. He also knew it would take time to accept the facts. And if he kept moping too long, his wife would catch on and send him to spar with Dex to knock some sense into him.

John quirked a sad smile at the thought. Then he moved into Roy's line of sight to indicate it was time to stop sparring.

Later in the afternoon, John sat with Roy at lunch when the final member of their team joined them. "Curtis and I have been running simulations with Doctor Keller. There's a thirty-four percent possibility that Oliver may have survived the fall, which would explain why AR-12 didn't find a body."

"He's dead," Roy huffed; "Accept it. We all saw him fall. He never called back to us. For all we know a predator carried off the body."

Felicity gasped, her lower lip trembled. She snatched up the laptop she'd brought to show them the data on. Then she dashed away as quickly as she'd arrived. John turned an exasperated look on Roy who shrugged, unapologetic.

"You didn't have to be so harsh. She cared deeply about him."

"We all cared for Oliver, but this isn't Earth. We can't waste energy on what-ifs. Oliver wouldn't want us to cling to false hope."

John had to conceded Roy was right. They didn't have the luxury to put their lives on hold in search of Oliver, dead or alive. And refusing to accept he was likely dead wasn't going to be healthy for Felicity in the long run. Still, John suspected Roy didn't realize Felicity had never dealt with such a close death before. She'd been a bit of a loner before she came to Atlantis and all of her family back on Earth was still alive. She was relatively new to Atlantis and this was her first personal loss. As such, Felicity was having the hardest time coping and her lack of training for such loss wasn't helping. Roy was already adjusting, so John didn't worry about him. With a sigh, he stood up to find Felicity and offer her a shoulder to lean on.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Oliver appreciated all Laurel and her people had done for him. He understood why they desired secrecy – the Wraith may have been decimated in number over the last six years, but they remained a threat and had been a major one for millennia. In Waverider's shoes, he'd likely put the need of his people over the desires of one man. That made his task difficult, but he had a plan to get home. He needed to convince the Council he wasn't a threat to their way of life. That he could keep their secret.

"My people have encountered solitary societies before. My leaders will understand if I tell them you helped me in goodwill but sent me away with the stipulation of no further contact. Your wishes will be respected, and you'll be left to live in peace. You have my word, I'll say nothing about your city or your people which would put you in danger."

Oliver spoke from a podium in a circular room. The three Council members sat around a table on another podium several yards ahead of him. They weren't alone in the room. Laurel stood behind Oliver and a man in green and red stood to the side of the judging Council.

Oliver's explanation was a simplification of the truth. In all likelihood, he'd be grilled on his time among these people, but so long as he kept his story short and unchanging there'd be little to learn. Nothing of his treatment suggested he'd been on an Alterran city-ship, among people with understanding of Ancient technology. The IOA might squabble and demand he be reprimanded for botching a first contact, but there was no lasting danger. All they had to do was let him go, then they'd all be happy.

"The lieutenant colonel hasn't been beyond the Quarantine corridors. He's seen nothing of consequence. Surely there is no reason to deny him his people if he's willing to protect our secret?" Laurel spoke in support of his request. She understood how much he wanted to go home.

"Gifted Jones?" the Council members turned to the silent observer.

Oliver wasn't certain why the other man's presence had been requested. He suspected Jones was a doctor or specialist in some field like Laurel because she'd been acknowledged as Gifted Lance when they arrived in the chamber.

"Both speak the truth as they know it," Gifted Jones rumbled; "Yet the lieutenant colonel cannot guarantee his people won't change their minds later about respecting our wishes."

Oliver wanted to argue, but a cutting glance from Laurel kept him silent. Yes, his leaders might disregard his warnings, but Waverider had a cloak. With the cloak on, his people could search for years to no avail.

The Council conferred over his testimony and the others. There was a reddish-haired woman who seemed most sympathetic to his request. Next to her, the white-haired man in gray seemed to lead the discussion. Yet it was the youngest of their number, a bespectacled blonde with an 'S'-like symbol on her chest, who proclaimed their decision.

"Lieutenant Colonel Oliver Queen, while we respect you wish to return to your people, our original decision will not be amended. We simply cannot take the risk. Though the prospect may seem unpleasant to you now, we hope you will find a new place among our people."

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

The only upside to his lifetime imprisonment on Waverider was his release from the Quarantine zone. He'd been given a new room among the other Waveriders and allowed access to most of the city – there was some areas restricted for safety reasons, just like on Atlantis. In many ways, life on Waverider reminded him of home. The spirit of purpose, the close-knit community. These people had tackled their own hardships and come out stronger for it. They made him miss his family, his team, even more.

"Hey there Ollie, ready for a new day?" Sara Lance greeted him the second Oliver opened his door.

Sara was Laurel's younger sister and his designated guide until he found his place in the city. She was also his neighbor, living next door with her significant other. Oliver would've preferred to have Laurel as a neighbor, but she lived in a different section of the city, close to where she worked. Still, Laurel made time to see him each day, which gave him one sweet thing to look forward to every morning.

"Where are we going today?" Oliver offered Sara a brief smile. He knew the younger Lance could be serious, but she appeared to enjoy tormenting him with her cheerfulness and blatant attempts to set him up with Laurel.

"Well, Laur is giving a lecture to the newest healers all morning, so I thought we'd surprise her with lunch. Guildmember Heywood is very interested in learning more about your world's woodcraft but he's not free until this afternoon. So, I arranged for us to visit Gifted Saunders in the western gardens this morning."

Oliver nodded and followed Sara. Unlike Atlantis, the city of Waverider was mostly self-sufficient. They produced most of their own food, raised livestock on the mainland behind reflective shields, and had their own textile center on a sublevel. Their society wasn't capital driven but it wasn't completely socialist either. Everyone contributed their time and labor to the community, had a say in how resources were used, and received of the bounty. That was why it was so important to them that he find his place in their community – besides the vain hope he'd give up on his dream to return home.

He'd already worked his way through seven guilds. He had no interest in becoming a healer, lacked the patience to convey his world's history to the people holding him hostage, and he needed something more challenging than a basic educator. He may have held a degree in mechanical engineering back on Earth, but the Waveriders were far beyond his expertise. The same held true for the scientists and tech experts, though they were excited to discover his naturally expressed ATA gene – he wasn't as powerful as Colonel Sheppard, but better than Dr. Beckett. The day before he'd tried to learn their fiscal system, however the allotment-credit-quota program wasn't as simple as he thought it was.

"I've been meaning to ask, what guild do you belong to?" Oliver asked after their third stairwell. The Waveriders conserved energy by using the transporters for emergencies only – most of the city's power maintained the cloak.

"I don't belong to a guild, I'm a guard," Sara answered, dropping the overly-cheerful façade.

"What exactly does that mean? And why are some people called gifted?" he'd heard people addressing Sara as Guardian Lance. He suspected she was part of the city's defense and he was hoping to get into her guild.

"Don't ask about the Gifted, you've no chance of becoming one. And the Council won't consider you as a Guardian until they're certain of your commitment to our people," her words stung. A reminder that he was an outsider despite their embracing arms. He might've felt hurt if he wasn't actively seeking a way off the city.

"Maybe its for the best," Oliver acted as if her words hadn't phased him; "I've spent my entire adult life defending my country. This could be my second chance to do something more peaceful, explore another career I couldn't at home."

"That's the spirit," Sara playfully bumped his shoulder, teasingly bubbly again.

Sara deposited Oliver into the capable hands of Kendra Saunders, then left to run an errand. Kendra set him under the tutelage of a youth named Wally West. Oliver helped replant a variety of vegetables, which were being transported into a greenhouse for a third harvest midwinter. Part of the transport process took him close to the underbelly of Waverider – close to where the puddle jumpers were stored on Atlantis. After a couple hours of labor, when Kendra stopped eyeing him like a hawk, Oliver saw an opportunity to explore. He told Wally he needed a short break out of the sun. The kid left him with a cask of water for hydration and Oliver slipped down another hall the second he was alone.

A couple days before, one of the scientists had let slip Waverider still had several puddle jumpers. With very few of their people expressing a strong ancient gene, the ships weren't of much use. They weren't even certain how to fly the machines anymore. They were still developing an interface system for non-gene users and looking to replicate the power cells, but most jumpers hadn't been touched in generations. Oliver was hoping to fly one off the city. Once through the 'gate, he'd head to an allied world, then contact Atlantis. He'd keep his promise and never reveal Waverider's secret, but he would get back home.

He hurried down the hall, took a left, and found the stairwell he needed at the end. He heard people coming around the corner in the next hall. He ducked into a nearby room in the nick of time. There may be thousands of people living on Waverider, but he couldn't risk the chance of being recognized. He continued his quest the moment the coast was clear. He reached the entrance to what he hoped was the submerged garage. Then everything went dark.

Oliver jerked awake on the floor. The entrance to the garage was to his right. Sara knelt before him, a weapon holstered on her hip. An energy gun like Ronon Dex's and the Travelers. She wasn't alone. "Get up, Queen," Sara ordered, serious without a hint of humor. And a little hurt.

He was returned to his assigned quarters and the doors locked behind him. He didn't have much in the room, only the clothing and furniture he'd been provided. He'd made no attempts to add to the room, to personalize – how could he when he had nothing of his? In a fit of rage, he swung his chair at the wall. The blow ran down his arms and rattled his teeth. The chair survived without a scratch, but then, like most things on Waverider, it was made of the same alloy as the city-ship.

Hours later the door whisked open to reveal Laurel. She frowned at him, arms crossed as she entered the room. He regarded her from the perch he'd made next to his window. "I hope you're not contemplating another fall – that's not glass in the window."

"I'm determined, not distraught," Oliver grumbled.

"Good," Laurel answered stiffly, her stance betrayed. He dropped from his perch and stalked into her personal space.

"The puddle jumpers, they were a test."

"Yes," she tilted her head up to meet his stare.

"What happened to accepting me with open arms?"

"We have, Oliver. It's a matter of trust." He scoffed and moved back from her. They didn't trust him anymore than he trusted them, at least they could agree on that. "We want you to be happy here."

"Happy? How can I be happy? You're holding me against my will. I have family back on Earth, friends on Atlantis. That's where my life is. This place, it isn't my home. There's nothing here for me."

"That's not true," Laurel moved towards him, but Oliver stepped back to evade her. She paused in motion, hurt, and then her anger seeped in; "If you gave us a chance, you'd see."

"See what? What could possible make my life here enjoyable?" he sneered.

"Me!" Laurel cried over him, then quieted; "I thought you might stay for me."

She flushed the moment the words were out of her moth. Oliver didn't know what to say, all the anger drained out of him at her declaration. Laurel fled his room. And he couldn't follow.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

The Council kept him locked in his room for three days. They made certain he was fed and hydrated, but completely alone with his thoughts. At the end of his solitude, a council member came to his room and explained to him the new restrictions on his movements and the punishments for further infractions. Oliver didn't really care.

The second he was allowed out, he went to find Laurel. He'd had plenty of time to consider her confession. His attraction to her wasn't one-sided, a realization that was both a relief and a burden. He knew he was never going to stop fighting to return home. The Waveriders may have put him on a leash, but he'd find a way. If nothing else, he'd show them he could be trusted and maybe, one day, they'd let him go. But he couldn't have his dream and Laurel too.

He found her in the infirmary. He watched her distract a little girl while giving her a shot, then she congratulated her brave patient with a piece of candy. When Laurel noticed him watching, her smile turned surprised and a faint blush found her cheeks. She hurried towards him but didn't stop until she'd led him to an empty overflow room for patients.

"About what I said, before, forget it. I shouldn't have said anything," she announced in a rush, barely making eye contact.

"What if I can't forget? Because I don't want to," that wasn't what he'd meant to say, but the second the words were out he didn't regret them. Not when Laurel jerked her head up to study him so hopefully.

"No," she shook her head; "You need to. It was wrong of me to ask you to stay for me. You'd only blame me in the long run, hate me."

Her tone was too final. He feared her next words would be the suggestion they stay away from each other. That was the last thing he wanted. If he couldn't have her, he wanted her friendship at least. He grabbed her hand and reeled her closer.

"I'm stuck here, Laurel, and I won't deny that I hate it, but I found you in the process. I don't want to lose you," the truth bubbled forth.

Laurel cupped his face, drawing closer to him. "I don't want to lose you either," she admitted softly.

"Stay with me," he lowered his head.

"We shouldn't," she tilted her head upward in invitation. Oliver agreed with her but closed the distance anyway.

Their lips brushed together teasingly and the spark that followed took his breath away. He tugged her flush to his body and pressed his mouth firmly against hers. She opened to him and they tasted each other. She tasted like the mint tea he knew she drank for breakfast. She smelled of that tangy spice and felt warm and supple in his arms. He let himself get lost in her.

It could easily take years to convince the Waveriders to trust him enough to send him home. It probably would, he reasoned. And in that case, he wanted no regrets. He wanted to see what might grow between himself and Laurel. Perhaps, when he was finally free, she'd love him enough to go with him – he'd see it happen before with Diggle and his wife, Lyla, and they were happy. Oliver wanted to take that chance with Laurel.

They broke apart, panting. Their foreheads pressed together. Laurel had her hands around his shoulders and head. He had one arm around her waist, the other tangled in her hair. He opened his eyes and smiled at her. Then stole a second, lingering kiss.

"Ollie," she murmured when he pulled back. There was want in her tone, but hesitation too.

"Think about it," he whispered back, then let her go.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Oliver woke to an empty bed. The smell of breakfast told him why. Fried potatoes, eggs, and toast; food that smelled the same on most worlds. He tracked down his pants, then padded over to the kitchenette where Laurel was cooking. "Good morning," she greeted as he slipped his hands around her waist. "Morning," he murmured between the kisses he layered on her exposed shoulder.

"Breakfast's almost ready," her breath hitched as his lips found her neck.

"Mmm, tastes good," he nibbled on her. She laughed and twisted in his arms. Placed a finger on his lips. "Ollie," she gave him a stern look. He kissed her finger.

"I love you," he whispered, pulling her close.

"I love you too," she melted into his embrace.

They kissed deeply as he carried her back to bed.

Oliver was whistling as he walked into the workshop later that morning. He was the first one in, like normal, and he used the time to inspect his helpers' work – not all of them were willing to admit when they were struggling on a piece.

"Sounds like someone had a good morning," Joe West greeted as he tromped in. He was normally the second man through the door and the most senior guildmember to join Oliver's division. "What do you think of these?" Joe handed over a patch of cloth. The patch had what was supposed to be a chisel reshaped to resemble an 'A' in front of a bundle of wood. The chisel looked more like an arrowhead, but there would be no doubt to which guild they belonged to.

"Not bad, I take it the Guild Council approved our new chapter," Oliver went to tack the patch next to the door, so everyone could see.

"They have. We are officially the fifty-second division of the Artisan Guild."

Oliver had learned carpentry from his grandfather and took up woodcarving as a hobby. He'd taught the basics to some of the guys back on Atlantis to decompress, but he'd never considered his skills valuable. On Waverider, his knowledge was a scare commodity. After generations of living on a technologically advanced city, many skilled trades had been lost. He'd been teaching his skills to anyone who wanted to learn, and his efforts had produced several unexpected results, besides a whole new chapter of the Artisan Guild.

The Waveriders relied on machines to make most things for them, and while they could build or fix the machine, they didn't know how to do the machine's job. It was a gap in their knowledge that vexed the younger generations. As such, what knowledge Oliver had to offer had attracted the interest of men and women in a variety of fields. Take Joe for example, he'd been a musician for most of his life, but had proven himself to be a quick study of carpentry and great second-in-command.

"Looks like two of new recruits are sticking around," Joe noted as he and Oliver went over the day's to-do list; "Zari's going to be happy."

Zari had been a journeywoman in the Technology Guild, now she taught the new recruits the more basic pieces: buttons, whistles, even combs and utensils, all of which were in high demand on Waverider. Zari was a bit of a task-masker, but she helped them weed out those who really wanted to learn the craft from those just wanting to tinker.

"You still up for the specialty requests with the Palmers today?" Oliver checked, and Joe affirmed he was. Chairs, dressers, and tables were harder to make but Oliver trusted Joe to come to him if there were any problems. "Good; then that leaves the Rogues to handle the Artisan requests while I tackle the Historians." Joe chuckled at Oliver's nickname for their occasionally trouble-making apprentices.

While they had a backlog of everyday requests to keep the newbies busy, the Guilds were in many ways the worst when it came to lists of things they'd like to try out in wood. The Commerce Guild had taken precedent until recently, because they could actually sell wood tools and the everyday requests off-world. Their new wares allowed them to import novel commodities they couldn't earlier, because of their leeriness to give away technology other worlds weren't ready to handle.

"Guildmaster Danvers wants you to check the next shipment of axes before they go out," Joe reminded Oliver as they finished up the list.

"Me?" All Oliver had helped do was make the handles and insert the blades, the Engineering Guild had provided the metal that wouldn't dull. It wasn't like he would know how to sell the tools to less developed worlds, so he didn't see what they needed his input for.

"Yes, Oliver, you. You didn't notice, but you've been single-handedly building this workshop into a chapter for months. Once our numbers reach fifty, the Guild Council will name you Guildmaster and they'll expect you to take up all the duties that entails. Right now, they're teaching you the job one aspect at a time, the way you've been teaching us."

"No pressure then," Oliver joked, though he realized with a jolt Joe was right.

He'd been on Waverider for nearly eight months now. Taking his hobby and building it into something meaningful kept him distracted. Falling in love with Laurel and starting a life with her had been the real focus of his life. Now, he was happy, happier than he'd been in a long time. He still wanted to go home, but he was settling in for the long haul. Besides, there were somethings he didn't miss about Atlantis. He'd been fighting so long, he hadn't realized until he stopped how tired he was. Life on Waverider was simpler, calmer, and with Laurel to share the moments, he'd relaxed into his new role without noticing.

"Time's a-wasting; better get to work," Oliver clapped Joe on the back, then went to chat with Ray who'd just arrived and had a chair that needed some extra work.

Later in the day, Oliver was overseeing the installation of shelves in the greenhouse. Senator Kara Danvers joined him, curious to see the project. She was Guildmaster Alex Danvers' younger sister and they'd been part of the trio to deny his request to return home. Oliver suspected Kara was there to check on him as well, but he didn't let his suspicions show. He was mostly there to compliment Winn and Ralph, who'd built the shelves as their first unsupervised project; for part-time apprentices they'd come a long way in a short time.

The last shelves were just set, and everyone was admiring the handiwork when the day turned for the worse. The next few minutes happened in a flash. They felt the rumble before they heard the explosion as the gas and fire sought an exterior outlet. Oliver was quick on Kara's heels. Outside the greenhouse they could see the dark smoke billowing out of a hatch six levels above them. "It's a training lab," Kendra identified. Kara tapped her communicator band and someone on the other end reported there were people still trapped near the blaze. Healers were en-route on the transporters.

"There's a transporter near us that can get us there," Oliver noted.

"Where?" Kara asked.

Oliver led Kara, Kendra, and Ralph to the nearest one. The transporters were used regularly on Atlantis and all base personnel were trained how to note and use them. Oliver had continued the habit, even though the transports were mostly ignored on Waverider. Thanks to his foresight, he was able to transport them to the affected hall in seconds.

The healers and other emergency personnel were already there and at work, Laurel among them. Oliver joined a group seeking the injured – the Waveriders knew he could handle himself in stressful situations and gladly accept his aid.

Smoke still clogged the halls, even if the fires had been beaten back into a few rooms. Several sections of the ceiling were structurally unsound, but Oliver wasn't concerned about his own well-being. He found a boy in his late teens trapped beneath a ceiling beam and partial wall. "Hey, what's your name kid?" he asked while assessing the damage.

"Jax," the kid said between coughs.

"My name's Oliver. Don't you worry Jax, we'll get you out of here quick," he kept his tone calm and confident. Then he called for help.

The situation was a mess. They'd need at least eight strong men and a jury-rigged wedge-and-lever. They'd have to move fast and loose, because once they had the wall off Jax, there was a good chance the entire ceiling would collapse. It might even collapse before then.

"Can you pull him out alone?" Kara was the first to respond. When Oliver affirmed that he could, she nodded sharply; "When I tell you, move him."

Before he could voice a question, Kara singlehandedly lifted the wall and beam off Jax.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

His clothes still smelled of smoke, though he'd cleaned off the soot. Oliver sat outside the infirmary, waiting. Waiting on news for Jax, to see Laurel, and waiting on an explanation. The affected halls had been cleared of all casualties. The fires put out. No one was dead. The good news did little to make Oliver feel better.

A thousand possibilities were whirling through his mind, well not a thousand per se, but he had concerns. He could at least rule out the Replicators, he would've noticed before now if they were a surviving off-shoot; those metal bugs couldn't fake human this long. As far as he knew, the Goa'uld hadn't left the Milky Way. So, unless the Waveriders were actual descendants of the Lanteans, ones not interested in ascension, he was at a loss to explain what he'd seen.

"Oliver," Laurel found him, nervously brushing back her hair.

"How are you?" he asked, because even with everything else tumbling through his head, he needed to hear the words. Scanning her for injury wasn't enough. "I'm fine, I –

"How's Jax?" he interrupted her because he wanted to keep the simpler questions first.

"He's good. Some bumps and bruises but nothing that can't heal on its own."

"Okay. Good. Now will you explain how a woman half my size lifted a wall off that kid?"

"It's complicated, Oliver," she hovered near him like a bird unwilling to land.

"Laurel, I've watched the Wraith suck the life out of my friends, flown through space in a city just like this. Heck, I'm not even from this galaxy. I can handle complicated. What I don't like is secrets and being lied to my face."

"You remember how I told you this city was given to my ancestors as a safe haven? The Lanteans protected us, because of what they did to us. What they feared the Wraith and other races might discover."

"Do you mean all of you can do what Kara did?"

"No," Laurel shook her head; "The genes are recessive and not everyone inherits enough to express an ability. And as with every being, each ability is unique to their makeup and development."

"The Lanteans gave you these abilities, how? Why?" Oliver wasn't unsettled with the idea. He'd been living an impossible dream nearly seven years now.

"They were trying to make us stronger, capable of fighting the Wraith. From what we understand of their records, they augmented different genes to further our evolution. They wanted to make us more like them, but they added something extra, and it produced a result they weren't expecting."

"And that was?" Oliver prompted when she paused. Laurel looked down at their hands when he grabbed hers and pulled her closer. Then she smiled hesitantly at him. "When the Wraith fed on a Gifted, the Gifted didn't die. He became a monster. The Lanteans realized that the extra bit they added was the cause, meaning all Gifted were at risk of becoming monsters. They couldn't undo what they'd done, and it was against their morals kill us. So, they left us here and told us to hide from everyone."

"You call those with abilities, Gifted?" Laurel bit her lip and nodded. She was Gifted. "Were you ever going to tell me?" he couldn't keep the hurt out of his voice, but he didn't let her go.

"I wanted to Ollie, I wanted to so bad, but telling you would ruin any chance of you returning to your people. Now that you've seen, now that you know, the Council will never risk letting you go," Laurel pulled away from him, a single tear caressing her cheek as she braced herself.

Oliver felt the weight of her words, the knowledge that trust would never be enough. If he hadn't volunteered to help, hadn't found Jax under that wall, then he might've had a chance to go home. Now these people, this city, were his only future. He looked at Laurel, who was ready for him to lash out, to never forgive her, and his indignation faded. She'd kept secrets to protect him, to shelter his dream to leave. She'd fallen in love with him, knowing he might not stay and that she couldn't go with him when he left.

He wrapped her in his arms after brushing away her tear. He pressed his forehead to hers. "Trust me," he pleaded. Laurel answered him with a kiss.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Oliver and Joe took a couple apprentice-journeymen to help the engineers stabilize the torched halls. The wooden joints and walls would buy the reconstruction crew additional time to assess the internal damage and allow them to rebuild with care. Normally, the Waveriders cordoned off the affected sections, slapped up new walls, and then usually had to install replacements in shifts as they worked out the kinks.

"How often do mishaps like this happen?" Oliver asked. Now that the secret was out, Laurel had explained that Jax had been the source of the explosion, trying to master his power.

"More often than we like, but not usually to this degree. Pyrokinetics like Jax are rare," Cisco, one of the engineers, explained as he checked the exposed crystals in a wall. Cisco was also Gifted, a chorokinetic.

"The last pyro to catch a hall on fire was Ronnie Raymond, a kid in my daughter's year," Joe mentioned. Oliver had met Iris West once, she was about his age and a Guardian like Sara; "But Ronnie didn't cause any lasting damage. The pyro before him, he nearly destroyed a wing."

"Really? Do I know him?"

"Gifted Stein." Oliver gawked, thinking the men were pulling his leg until he saw the Lance sisters nodding. He found it hard to believe that the grandfatherly scientist, who could at times rival Dr. McKay for ego, was a pyrokinetic. He just seemed too nice, even if he could get aloof when it came to his passions.

"Of course, pyros aren't the only ones known for causing trouble," Sara hinted. She'd been hanging around Oliver more lately, probably watching in case he tried to run. He tried not to take it personally.

"Sara," Laurel shot her sister a warning glance.

"You?" Oliver finished nailing a board in place. Then he let Joe inspect their handiwork while he faced his paramour. She'd been shy about discussing her ability with him. It was part of the reason he'd volunteered his time to reconstruction, he knew Laurel would be using her ability to help as well.

"I'm the only sonokinetic on Waverider, there was a learning curve," Laurel shrugged defensively.

"She once screamed so hard she shattered the glass in every apartment up our hall. She even shorted the electrical breaker."

"In other words, I'd better never make her angry because she'll win any argument," Oliver teased as he tugged Laurel into his arms. Sara laughed, agreeing with him while Laurel huffed and snuggled into his embrace.

"I'm all done here, Laurel. If you'd like to give us a song," Cisco finished replacing a couple of crystals then stepped back.

Laurel wigged away from Oliver. She knelt next to the crystals and let out a single, perfectly pitched note. The crystal glowed softly and echoed the A-note. Laurel closed her eyes and went through the entire scale. The crystals sung each note back to her. Oliver could barely discern the soft hum, but Laurel swayed, hearing so much more. After the last note, Laurel rose; "Cisco, you should take a second look at the power relay junction to this sector. There was a delay at E, the response was flat. Everything else looks fine."

"All right, I'm on it," Cisco waved and trotted away.

Their work was done, so Oliver lured Laurel back to their place. He was in the middle of showing her how hot he found her gift when all the power in their apartment went out. Oliver wasn't particularly concerned and continued to trail kisses along Laurel's neck. He'd just reached her clavicle when Laurel stiffened and pushed him off her. "Something's wrong."

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

The chair dipped backward, blue lights glowing. Oliver felt Waverider come alive in his mind. The city tried to dump a thousand problems on his lap, but he reorganized the neuro-response to give him only the most critical based on his criteria. The data re-filtered, highlighting the issues he needed to address.

"Colonel Queen, are you still with us?" Martin Stein's voice interrupted the flow of information.

"I hear you, and you were right. The fluctuations in the power coils were a sign of something bigger," Oliver said, simultaneously analyzing the specific problem while seeing how it affected the rest of the city. "There's been serious degradation in the main junctions on the entire eastern wing, two of the relays on the northeast and southeast wings, and another four between the other wings."

"What? How is that possible? How could we not have noticed in all this time?" Martin sounded aghast.

"There's a minor flaw in the leading crystals you've replaced in those coils. At first, the other junctions compensated for the errors, but the more replacements you added, the more strain it put on the entire system."

"Until I took a closer look and accidently tripped a security protocol that pushed the power system over the top," Cisco finished.

"Yes. I've identified the flaw in the crystals. I'm sending the data to the central computer for review and correction," Oliver pushed one problem out of the way, then pulled up thirteen connected problems to sort through next. "I'm going to try and reroute around the affected junctions. That should stop any further degradation to the rest, but you'll have to give up the training labs until the coils are fixed."

"An acceptable price for our own folly – if not for Gifted Jackson, we might not have found this problem until it was too late."

Oliver was barely paying attention, too focused on the obstructions in his mind. He couldn't simply reroute all the power from one junction to another, that would put too much strain on the second. He needed to split the lines between multiple junctions and check that he didn't overwhelm any secondary junctions in the process. Moreover, he had to conduct the rerouting at roughly the same time for all affected coils or else he'd trip another security protocol and they'd have to start from the very beginning.

He was just beginning the reroutes when the city's power level dipped.

"Oliver, we've lost the cloak," Cisco warned him, though he already knew. Oliver cursed and worked faster, but there was only so much time he could shave.

"There, done. Restarted cloak," he said, the cloak back up before he even finished speaking. He heard the others sigh in relief, but he didn't. He accessed Waverider's sensors, adjusting for the power drain, and cast out with his mind. Short range sensors showed no threats. Good. But there, on the edge of his long-range scan . . . Oliver swore colorfully.

Wraith.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Roy Harper had fought the Wraith all his life. He'd fought for his planet, his people, and had watched them fall to the dominate predators. He'd been turned into a Runner for the Wraiths' entertainment but had eventually found his way to Atlantis. He'd found a new home with these people, but it had been Oliver Queen who first made him feel welcome. Oliver had been his first brother among these strangers and Roy still felt the lieutenant colonel's loss. Which only made it harder for his to like the new guy.

In fact, Roy had stopped trying all together.

They'd needed a fourth member on their team. Someone with a military background because, despite her claims, Felicity was useless in a firefight. Colonel Sheppard had put John Diggle in charge of AR-7 rather than force a new leader on them and Dig had chosen Sergeant Rene Ramirez to be their fourth. Rene was a good marine – disciplined in the field, focused in a battle, and an excellent tactician. Roy could tolerate him fine off-world, but the man was obnoxious on base. Even Felicity agreed. He grated on Roy's nerves whenever they tried to do "team-bonding" as badly as Felicity had when Roy was first getting to know her. Only this time he didn't have Oliver there to help him understand Rene's perspective.

"Ah, smell that? The crisp scent of civilization. I don't know about you dogs, but I sure do need a shower. Nature living like those dogs on M3R-647 does not agree with me," Rene started in before they even crossed the event horizon back to Atlantis and Roy couldn't wait to get away from him.

"Major Diggle, a word," Woolsey called before they'd cleared the embarkation room.

Felicity and Roy shared a look, but Rene trotted off to the showers complaining of an itch down his back. After a second, Felicity left, but Roy remained. When John rejoined him, Roy could tell it wasn't good news. "Barry wants to meet," was all he said. Roy stiffened immediately.

They left Rene on Atlantis because he'd never met Barry before, and Barry didn't like strangers. Ronon Dex filled in as their fourth. Like Roy, he believed, once a Wraith, always a Wraith. They found the hybrid, thanks to Michael's experiments, waiting for them just beyond the stargate. Ronon's hand found the butt of his weapon while Roy fingered the safety on his gun. They both snarled at the hybrid who'd brought three former drones as back up. John held up a hand, telling them to ease up. Barry eyed them in amusement.

"Barry," John nodded his head politely.

"Major Diggle. I heard that Colonel Queen was lost . . . my sympathies on your loss."

"If that's all you called us here for . . ." Ronon growled dangerously.

"I was trying to be polite," Barry retorted with a small glare. "I asked you here because I have information to trade."

"What could you know that we'd want?" Roy retorted, feeling more on edge the longer Barry dragged this out.

"How about the location of another city-ship like Atlantis? Does that interest you? Because I have the exact coordinates for one, but if you want it, you'll have to move quick. An armada of Wraith are on their way there as we speak."

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

The full Senate had been convened with guild and guardian representatives. The news that a Wraith fleet was on the way had spread like wildfire and unhappy, fearful murmurs filled the room. Oliver stood with Laurel in the audience section; the city leaders fluctuated above them on a raised platform that stood nearly four feet off the floor. The room was packed, yet everyone could hear clearly thanks to the wrist communicators all Waveriders wore.

"In light of the overwhelming odds and the fact the cloak cannot be extended beyond the city, the Senate and the council agree our best course of action is to evacuate to a new world. We hope that when the Wraith arrive and find the city empty, they will eventually leave, allowing us to return home," Kara Danvers announced. Then the meeting was open to those below, to permit them to voice their opinions.

"Where will we go?" one woman cried.

"At this time, no decision has been made. We are considering various worlds, weighing which will best support us _**if**_ permanent settled is required," Gifted Jones spoke as the head of the Guardians.

"Why can't we fly Waverider to this new planet. Now that we have one with the gene and knowledge to do so?" This question produced a chitter of excitement. A hope most hadn't considered.

"Colonel Queen may have the knowledge, but the simple fact is the city doesn't have the power," Martin Stein explained, after quieting the masses.

"Why don't you fight?" Oliver asked in the mournful silence that followed; "Not with the Gifted, but with the technology you've built, and that left by the Ancients. This city has shields which can be expanded to the mainland. You have the puddle jumpers and drones which are more than enough to take on a Wraith fleet."

"We do not have a working interface and no other viable users besides you, Colonel Queen," Kara replied tiredly.

"Then ask for help. Atlantis has ATA-gene carriers. They know how to use the tech as well as I do. Those on Atlantis have fought the Wraith for years. They've destroyed fleets like this one before. They'd be happy to help you protect this world, this city. If you're willing to fight for you home, they'll fight with you."

"If we fight and win, others will learn about Waverider, but that doesn't mean we can't hide the Gifted," Laurel added. She gave Oliver's hand a gentle squeeze but didn't look at him. "If we run, we'll lose our home, all the protections and comforts this city offers. We'll be at the mercy of the Wraith and the few allies we have, and the Gifted will be at risk constantly."

"Waverider is all I've ever known. I don't want to give her up without a fight. And I don't want to put my son at risk of the Wraith's touch," Joe West spoke above the dissent Laurel's observations had produced; "If Oliver believes his people will aid us, then I want to fight. To protect my children and my home."

He wasn't the only one. Another voice cried out, a call to defend what was theirs and more voices echoed the sentiment. Soon enough, majority of the audience had presented their opinions and the decision was made.

They would fight.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

The puddle jumper landed a couple yards from the stargate. He and Gate Specialist Anatoly climbed out to find Kara and her cousin, Clark, already waiting for them. Anatoly set to work immediately, attaching the leads that would allow them to see and speak with those on Atlantis once they dialed in. (Waverider's gateroom had long ago been converted into a daycare.)

"You know, you remind me of a scientist back on Atlantis," Oliver made some small talk as he watched Anatoly worked.

"Does he drink as poorly as you?" Anatoly quipped in his strange accent. Like Oliver, he was a transplant to Waverider. Unlike Oliver, he had no home to go back to and had been happy adapt to the Waveriders' lifestyle.

"I don't think so," Oliver replied. He really only knew Zelenka in passing.

"Then maybe there is hope for him."

"Are we ready?" Kara interrupted, seeing Anatoly had stopped working. "We are," he confirmed.

"Then let's do this," Oliver said. He dialed the address he'd called home for years.

The inner ring spun. The lights glowed. Then with a kwoosh, the connection was made. Oliver stepped in front of the camera at Anatoly's direction. On the screen, Colonel John Sheppard appeared.

Three hours later, Oliver stood before a group of councilmembers and guardians. He was explaining the defense plan he and Colonel Sheppard had mocked up and what that meant for the Waveriders. Atlantis was sending five teams to back the guardians in defense of the city. Twenty of the expedition's best pilots would use Waverider's puddle jumpers to engage the Wraith darts while Colonel Sheppard used their chair. The _Hammond_ was en-route but would likely arrive late to the battle.

"What will your people expect in return?"

"I promised them nothing. They'll expect a dialogue to open with your people, but they understand that guarantees nothing," Oliver answered. Kara nodded, she'd agreed on behalf of her people to a meeting with the Atlantis expedition after the battle.

"They'll hope to get information out of me when I report of my time here, but I won't divulge your secrets," Oliver assured the leaders. He knew Gifted Jones could sense the truth in his words.

The Atlanteans would be interested in trading with the Waveriders. Especially once they learned the scientists on Waverider could produce new drones for the chair and puddle jumpers. Oliver was reasonably certain they wouldn't have to sacrifice their privacy, if they played their cards right.

Once he'd satisfied their questions about the city-ship's defenses and covered the best way to minimize the risk to the Gifted, he was freed. Oliver tracked down Laurel. She was helping move people from the outer wings to the main spire. He was waylaid a couple times to aid those he knew and once to lend a hand with a very heavy aquarium.

Oliver found her in the west wing working with Sara. The Lance sisters put him to work immediately and without much speaking. As night began to fall, their efforts petered out as people headed off in search of food, company, and a good night's rest. Laurel led Oliver back to their apartment, clinging tightly to his hand. He knew she wasn't just worried about the Wraith. He tried to talk to her, but she shushed him.

The second the door to swished shut behind them, Laurel kissed him hard. She pressed him against the wall. "I love you," he murmured, trailing kisses along her jaw. "I know," she clung to him as if afraid he'd disappear all the same. He kissed her deeply, pushing her back towards the bed. He'd show her she had nothing to worry about.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Oliver sat the helm of the puddle jumper. For a moment, he let himself enjoy the feeling of the ship. The controls beneath his hands, the strange but comforting sensation of his connection with the jumper in the back of his mind, and the limitless possibilities of space before him. Man, he'd missed this. On the edge of his consciousness, he could sense the other jumpers getting into position in a defense pattern around Waverider's homeworld.

"Alright boys and girls listen up. We've got ourselves a nice little armada about to exit hyperspace to destroy this fine city I'm sitting in," Colonel Sheppard drawled through the Earth-based coms; "We aren't going to let that happen. Now, make sure you dot your I's and cross your T's because we've got some new allies to protect and impress. Especially after all they've done for one of our own."

The Wraith arrived. Oliver sensed them drop out of hyperspace through the jumper's sensors. Eight hive ships. The largest fleet they'd seen in a while. They sped towards the planet perpendicular to the system's sun. The puddle jumpers held their formation.

"The Waveriders have activated their ARGUS system. Let's see what tricks our friends have up their sleeve."

Darts launched from the hive ships when the Wraith were still minutes out from the planet. The larger ships began to slow, to let their smaller fighters take the brunt of puddle jumpers' defense. Before the darts could attack the jumpers, they had to pass through a small asteroid belt that ringed the planet. There they discovered the first trap. Mines.

The mines had been laid deep in the field, growing thicker as the edge to the planet neared. This meant the darts were well into the asteroid belt before they encountered the trap, where escape wasn't so easy. This played out well for the defenders as dozens of darts exploded at once. Oliver pulled up a display in the jumper so that he could see the symphony of destruction as many darts bravely continued to punch forward and die for their stupidity. Those that turned back had a fifty-fifty chance of survival.

The two closest Wraith hive ships were pushing into the asteroid belt when the mines were discovered. They didn't have time to course correct and go around as the remaining hive ships tried to do. Those two ships took heavy damage as they cleared a path through the belt. Oliver's hands tensed above the control panel of his jumper, but he held his position a little longer.

A pulse emitted from the planet's moon once the hive ships cleared the mine field. Three hives and their entire dart entourage were hit the EMP-like pulse and lost all power. Darts on the edge of the pulse wave lost partial power and caused havoc among their number. The Wraith continued to press forward. The darts spread out – they were seconds out from the first line of defense.

The first wave of jumpers rolled into motion. Oliver among them. He was toward the center of the wing patterns. While the outer puddle jumpers would be corralling the darts back in, his job was to punch forward into the thick of the Wraith fleet. He did so with determination and effort. Targeting one dart after another and destroying them while dodging their return fire. He even lobbed a couple drones at a hive ship as he passed under the belly of the beast. Then he was on the other side of the oncoming fleet. He zipped towards the asteroid belt, to clear out any straggling darts. Then it was back to the fight, attacking the Wraith from behind as the second wave of defense struck from the front.

The Wraith ships and darts returned fire, scoring hits along the shields of the puddle jumpers but not taking any out immediately. The Wraith drifted forward, intent on surrounding the planet and bombarding it from space until there was no life, no city, left. Oliver got lost in the maneuvers of fight, taking full advantage of the inertia dampeners that protected him from the wild tricks he used. Spinning 180-degrees to avoid a dart's blasters, coming to an immediate stop so that two darts flew over head for easy pickings, or engaging the cloak and attacking a cluster of darts from above.

An insistent, obnoxious alert warned Oliver, breaking his concentration just in time. He wasn't the only puddle jumper to swerve back from the killing zone between the planet's moon and atmosphere. The Wraith had only seconds to realize something was up before the satellites finished targeting. Then the bombardment began. The hive ships at the center of the armada were the most protected from the energy beams that cut through the rest of the fleet like ribbons. The Wraith were taking heavy damage, two more hives looked ready to implode, and Sheppard rounded out the attack with drones from the city.

The Wraith fired back. They targeted the satellites first while many darts sacrificed themselves to protect the hive ships from the drones. The remaining darts charged towards the city, it's location easily found now that the chair was active.

Oliver and nine other puddle jumpers chased the darts into the planet's atmosphere. Reentry was a hassle and took most of his focus while he also targeted several darts. He barely registered the arrival of the _Hammond_ – the final nail in the armada's coffin. Oliver cleared reentry and opened fire on the first dart he found. He tore through them, one after another, often fighting in tandem with other jumpers. Of course, once they'd clean up one wave of darts, another would follow. Though the number of darts entering atmo dropped with each new wave.

"Queen, I've got three bogeys inbound in your sector. They're coming in low," Sheppard called out. Oliver cursed for having missed them, but fixated on ending the threat, not berating himself.

He found the darts rising from the ocean, minutes out from Waverider. His jumper was limping from a hit to the rear starboard, but he coaxed a little more speed out of his engines. He blasted one dart into a watery grave before it could completely clear the waves. The other darts tagged him twice in return. His teeth rattled at the hits – his shields were down to 9%. Sweat dripped off his chin as he zigged and zagged, honing in on his next target. The darts were still beneath him. Oliver matched paces with one, then dropped in a spiraling descent. He fired.

Two down. One to go.

He spun the jumper forward and chased after the final dart. They were close enough to Waverider that Oliver could see the city out the window. He targeted the dart. Fired. Nothing happened. A millisecond later he registered the depletion status of his drones. No ammo. Oliver cursed, then egged his jumper forward. He strained the engines as much as they could take, because there was no way he was letting that dart into Waverider.

He sped ahead of the dart, then pivoted his jumper to face the oncoming threat. Channeling his remaining reserve power to engines and shields, Oliver charged at the dart for a head-on collision. Less than forty miles out. The space between their ships closed rapidly. Thirty miles. Oliver held steady. "Come on you leech, I don't want to die today," he grunted. Twenty miles.

At the last second, the dart tried to pitch below the jumper. The pilot didn't account for the downward draft created by the jumper as it passed overhead. The nose of the dart dipped lower than expected and the pilot lost control of his craft for one too many precious seconds. The dart flipped onto its side as the pilot over corrected and then the Wraith ship crashed into the waves below and failed to rise – Oliver doubted the crash killed the pilot, but he noticed a large, dark shape under the waves heading for the dart and suspected that would take care of the problem.

Oliver slowed his puddle jumper and returned to scanning the skies and ocean for any more hostile targets. When the cheering started, his battle-fogged brain took a moment to understand what the sound meant.

"Nice job out there, Queen, for a rust bucket," Colonel Sheppard jibed.

Oliver chuckled in appreciation, smiling in relief. Waverider was safe.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Oliver's engines gave out on the return trip to Waverider. He managed a controlled, if bumpy, crash into the waters a couple miles out from Waverider's eastern launch pad. One of the ground crews sent a second puddle jumper to tow him in. The second his feet touched ground, Oliver checked in with the repair crews but was told they didn't want his help until he was rested. Kendra caught his arm and started hustling him to the infirmary to get checked over, but she had to let him go when a runner reported a problem in one of the gardens.

Oliver set off on his own for the infirmary. Not to get checked over but to check on someone else. He passed a few Atlantis personnel on his way as they helped the guardians search for any sneaky Wraith that may have boarded the city unnoticed. He nodded to a few of his casual friends, both Atlantean and Waverider. He shared in the salutations offered and victory grins, but he pressed on to his goal.

"Oliver!" a familiar voice called when he was only a couple corridors away from his goal.

He turned around with a smile as Roy and the rest of AR-7 surged into view. "It's good to see you," Oliver shared a forearm hug with Roy and clapped Diggle on the back. He nodded politely to Rene Ramirez, then whoofed in surprise when Felicity wrapped him in a tight hug.

"I'm so glad you're alive. I'm so sorry we left you for dead," she squeezed him tightly, then let him go. "Obviously, you weren't dead, and I should've suspected that something like a holographic projector was in play."

"Felicity, it's okay. It wasn't your fault. What happened was on me, and the Waveriders. Don't beat yourself up for something you couldn't have known or done," Oliver assured her, but his message was for his whole team.

"Objectively, I know that. Still, I'm just super glad you're alive because it will make the guilt easier to get over," Felicity smiled at him. Oliver smiled back at all of them, happy that they were alive and well too.

"There's someone I want you guys to meet," Oliver gestured for his former team to follow him.

He led them to the infirmary and Laurel spotted him immediately. The hair she'd so neatly pulled back into a bun was coming loose. There was a soot stain on her cheek and odd splotches on her healer's tunic, but she was uninjured. A little worn out, but whole and alive. He swept her up into a hug and kissed her in relief. His actions answered any concerns she might've had for his well-being.

"Laurel, I want you to meet my teammates. This is Felicity, Roy, and John. Rene there, I do believe, is my replacement. Guys and Felicity, this is Laurel," Oliver made the introductions.

Roy hooted and shook Laurel's hand vigorously. John smiled politely. Felicity blinked twice, then hugged Laurel, whispering something in her ear.

"Colonel Queen, Colonel Sheppard requests your presence in the chair room," Teyla Emmagen effortlessly weaved her way through the healers and injured.

"Yes, ma'am," Oliver nodded. He smiled at Laurel; "I'll be back once your shift is over."

Then he pressed another kiss to her lips and followed AR-7 and Teyla out of the infirmary.

* * *

Epilogue

"Are there _any_, any other details you'd like to include in your report, Lieutenant Colonel Queen?" the IOA representative questioned.

Oliver looked at the unsmiling faces before him and suppressed the desire to smirk. He knew they weren't happy with his debriefing. He'd been extremely succinct in his details of what he'd seen and discovered about Waverider and its inhabitants.

"There is one final thing I'd like to share," Oliver slipped a hand into his uniform jacket and pulled out a white envelope. He slid it over the table to Mr. Woolsey who accepted it with a mildly curious expression, as if he didn't know what it contained. "My resignation, sirs and ma'am," Oliver explained. "And I have one final request, that I might be allowed to retire to M8A-125."

Oliver offered a small smile to the shocked coalition of military and civilian personnel. He knew his request would be granted – he'd already negotiated the terms with Woolsey and Sheppard earlier. He would live on Waverider as an informal ambassador, in the hopes of strengthening the Waveriders' trust in the Atlantis expedition so that they might become true allies over time. Oliver understood both sides of the situation and wanted to find a compromise that would work for both sets of people he'd come to care for and respect.

When he entered his room on Atlantis for the last time, Oliver let a full smile break out. He quickly changed out of his uniform and into Waverider garb. Folding up the last physical reminder of his previous life, Oliver felt no regret as he tucked the uniform away. He was confident in his decisions, and happier than he'd been in a long time. He grabbed two black bags off the floor and left without a backwards glance.

His former teammates, plus Lyla Diggle, were there to see him off in the embarkation room. Oliver smiled at them fondly. Months ago, they were what he wanted to return to. Now, he would miss them, but he wouldn't regret leaving. He was tired of the constant war, he wanted to do more with his life, and he found a way to do so, just not with them.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" John asked one last time.

"Without a doubt," Oliver promised him. Lyla hugged him before nestling against Diggle.

"Don't mess things up with Laurel, ever, do you hear me," Felicity threatened, semi-serious.

"When the Waveriders are willing, I'll visit you," Roy offered.

"We all will," Diggle corrected.

"I'll like that. This isn't goodbye, you know. I'll see you again," Oliver said. His team smiled and nodded, wiping away any accidental tears.

Then Oliver stepped through the 'gate.

He walked back to his and Laurel's apartment alone. The door swished open and he stepped inside. Laurel looked over from her seat next to a window. She began to rise, surprise written clearly on her face. Oliver let his bags drop to the floor. "Honey, I'm home."

Laurel laughed and dashed into his arms. He picked her up and spun them in a circle. When he set her down, she cupped his face in her hands.

"Are you certain?" she asked.

"I'm not completely cut off from my family back on Earth or Atlantis. Maybe one day, I'll take you there, if you like. That's all I wanted. All I need is right here. With you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Laurel. To get married, have a family, and just be with you."

Laurel kissed him, needing no more. When they pulled apart, she whispered a secret in his ear. A surprise. One part of his dream that was already on the way.

The End


	3. Moonlight Curse

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**A/N: **I'm thinking of including summaries, but should I do them in the Table or just before the story? Suggestions appreciated. Reviews too. Thanks for reading.

* * *

Moonlight Curse

Night had fallen but Star City was far from sleepy. People dined and danced and held dalliances in dark corners. Tommy Merlyn sat in a perfectly tailored suit at a low-key bar in the city. He carefully sipped his single malt scotch and continued his conversation with the bartender. Around them, creatures of the night prowled, barely masking their true natures among so many intoxicated, delectable humans.

"As I was saying, a hundred years ago you wouldn't have recognized this city. Back then, it was called Starling, a barely known port town. My family, however, saw the potential for Starling to be so much more. From the shadows we built this city into our own little kingdom. It was the first place my family truly felt at home, in a very long time. Unfortunately, it wasn't meant to last. Even on this side of the coast, our nightmare stalked us, forcing us to flee once more. But no place since has held the same siren's song as this city. The home of our hearts."

"A nice story. Bit grandiose for my taste, but then I'm just the bartender," Quentin Lance commented as he filled another drink order.

"That's not what I've heard," Tommy replied dryly; "Word around town is you're the man with his ear on the pulse of Star City."

"And if I am? What's it to you?"

"I'm here in search of information, the kind most _humans_ prefer to ignore," Tommy lightly stressed the species. He caught several sensitive ears twitching his way. He turned in his seat to flash them a pointed grin. The night creatures all turned away, respecting his privacy. When Tommy returned to facing Quentin, the human was scowling.

"You're one of them. What are you doing in Star City?"

"The better question is, what is my brother doing here. And I intend to ask him such, once I find him. The sooner I find him, the sooner we'll both be gone, understand?"

"What do you want to know, Progenitor?" Quentin sighed.

Tommy smiled. Progress, finally.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

"You are a difficult man to track down," Tommy stepped out of the shadows as Oliver finished off the last of the upstarts who thought they could best a Progenitor.

Oliver dropped the heart he'd ripped out of the regular vampire's chest. He calmly accepted the handkerchief his brother offered him and cleaned the mess off his hands. The cuts on his face and the bruises on his knuckles healed, until only the splashes of blood on his shirt remained as proof of his exertions. Since Oliver dressed in all black, the stains were barely noticeable to the human eye. The two half-brothers regarded each other warily. Then the self-titled Queen's son, Queen for short, spoke.

"I don't recall asking for your help."

"I didn't come to offer it," Tommy replied and gestured with one hand that they walk away from the corpses. The sun would rise soon and turn the bodies to ash, but Tommy had little desire for some bystander to wander up and see them next to such a ferocious display of temper.

The brothers exited the alley way and strolled down the streets of the Glades. In this section of the city, crime was more rampant, and so were the witches, werewolves, and vampires who roamed, pretending to be human. "What are you doing here, Oliver? You only broke your curse two months ago and what do you do? You come to the one city you should avoid at all costs. Why?"

In truth, Oliver had traded one curse for another. For centuries, Tommy's half-brother had been denied part of his nature. Born a werewolf through his biological father, the truth of Oliver's parentage hadn't been known until they were made vampires and his werewolf blood activated upon death. The ferocity of his werewolf nature combined with his uncontrollable thirst had been too much. To save them all, their mother had been forced to bind Oliver's werewolf half. Once he'd learned to control his thirst and heightened emotions, Oliver had begun searching for a way to break the binding. It had taken centuries and a new price had to be paid, but once more Oliver was complete.

This should've made Oliver happy, but Tommy knew the cost weighed heavily on his brother. Tommy suspected Oliver had come to Star City as a form of self-punishment. For one step within the city limits and his brother had already begun to weaken. That fight with the upstarts should not have lasted as long as it had or taken as much out of Oliver that it did, but being so close to _her_, even with the whole city between them, was already taking its toll.

"I don't want to be here, Tommy. Truly. I was summoned," Oliver sighed at last.

"By whom?"

"The newest mouth of the Glades witches; calls himself Diggs or something," Oliver grunted. His tired eyes hungrily tracked the carotid artery in an early morning jogger. Neither blood nor food could satisfy him now, not so long as he stayed in this fluctuating state.

"What would the witches want with you?"

"They want to strike a deal. They think they have something I want, an incentive I can't refuse."

"And what would that be?"

"Why don't you come to our next meeting, see for yourself?" Oliver's teeth gleamed.

Tommy huffed, resigned to play yet another of his brother's games. Then he followed Oliver into the nearest bar. There he compelled the owner to serve them drinks, despite the early hour of the day.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

They met in a night club, hours before the place opened. Moving around in the daylight hardly mattered to the Progenitor brothers – their mother had cast them rings to protect them from the harmful rays of the sun. Unlike their sired progeny, they couldn't be killed by sunlight, but constantly bursting into flames and regenerating grew tiring quite quickly.

Tommy fiddled with his black-hued ring while Oliver ducked around the bar to fix them something strong. Their morning pick-me-up had cleared their systems and Oliver insisted they, namely himself, needed the reinforcements. Oliver's green-stone ring glinted as he slid Tommy's drink to him.

"Why are we meeting here exactly?"

"I believe Diggs owns the club," Oliver shrugged, eyes scouring the place, making a tactical assessment.

"And you aren't going to give me any clue what this meeting's about?"

"I'd rather not spoil the surprise," Oliver replied darkly.

Tommy polished off his drink before the witches arrived. Even before they reached the door, Tommy knew the witches hadn't come alone. Tommy tensed until Oliver tapped his arm, telling him they were safe. A moment later, Tommy recognized the scent and understood why. He wanted to ask how Oliver had known before him, but his brother's gaze was riveted on the approaching party.

"Thomas Merlyn," the lone male witch in the group sounded disgruntled.

"Tommy, actually. And who are you?"

"John Diggle," the witch swiveled to face Oliver; "You invited your brother. That wasn't part of the deal."

"Your request is a family matter, which makes it only fair that at least one other member of my family has a say in the negotiations."

"Speaking of, is someone going to tell me what's going on or am I supposed to infer?"

"The vampires in Star City have wrested control over the supernatural factions," Oliver answered, never taking his eyes off Diggle; "They're keeping the witches and werewolves on a tight leash. The witches want me to break that leash for them."

"The situation is more complicated than that. The Governors have banned all magic, except for what they want done for them," Diggle added through a tense jaw; "They're denying us our heritage, our nature. I would think you of all people could understand."

"Oh, I can," Oliver flashed a feral smile, "but let's not pretend you asked for my help, no strings attached."

"I'm no fool. I know your reputation, Oliver Queen. You asked for proof, here she is."

At Diggle's gesture, the witches behind him parted and a beautiful blonde was thrust forward. A werewolf-witch whom Tommy had met on several occasions. More importantly, the woman who'd been the key to breaking Oliver's original curse: Laurel Lance. Her wrists were bound, the full moon weeks away, yet she wasn't afraid. Her eyes sought Oliver's, but he only glanced at her once before returning his gaze to Diggle.

This close, his brother was more werewolf than vampire. Tommy could smell a faint perspiration off Oliver. He caught Oliver's soft inhale as he breathed in her scent – Oliver had said his nose was usually the last thing to go. Weakened as he was in her presence, Oliver didn't let it show. He kept his face impassive, giving none of his true thoughts away. Especially not to her. If Tommy hadn't had centuries of reading his brother, he wouldn't have noticed how difficult it was for Oliver. As it was, no one but Tommy noticed the tightening of Oliver's shoulders, the way he watched Laurel in his peripherals, and how carefully he regulated his heartrate to control his aggressive nature.

"I fail to see how one of my brother's many conquests provides any motivation to aid you," Tommy commented brusquely. He kept his expression bored, rather than express his true interest in the turn of events.

Laurel flinched at his casual reference to her. Tommy regretted hurting her. She was a very sweet young woman, but Oliver had made his desires clear. She wasn't to know how much Oliver truly cared.

"He hasn't told you?" Diggle looked shocked. Oliver scoffed and explained; "He claims she's pregnant with my child."

"Impossible," Tommy dismissed the notion on impulse. He caught Oliver's unasked request, however, and listened closely.

_Whoosh-whoosh, whoosh-whoosh. Whoosh-whoosh_. The rapid heartbeat beneath Laurel's own shocked Tommy. He masked the feeling before anyone, but Oliver, could see. With a quick tilt of his head, he confirmed the unborn life to his brother. No one outside their family knew how weakened Oliver became in Laurel's presence and they intended for the truth to remain that way.

"Trust me, if I could, I'd claim someone else fathered this baby, but there's been no one else," Laurel spoke bitterly, one arm wrapping protectively over her abdomen.

Tommy caught Oliver's reflexive glance at Laurel. She missed it, head bowed.

"We tested her. We're certain it's yours. Vampires may not be able to procreate, but no one knows what a hybrid can do," Diggle asserted.

"Be that as it may, I trust my family more than you," Oliver informed Diggle in a neutral tone; "If you want my help, I require my mother confirms the baby's mine."

Only Tommy heard the undercurrent of yearning in his brother's voice.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Thea opened the door in a foul mood. She hollered into the foyer of the mansion; "I'm here. Is someone going to help me or not?"

Tommy shared an amused grin with Oliver; "Behave yourself while I'm gone." Then Tommy sped out of the room in a blur. Oliver quirked a sardonic smile at their guests; "This won't take long."

They'd started a small fire in the formal parlor, ostensibly for their guests. The mansion was a bit drafty; its upkeep not maintained in the last decade since the groundskeeper died in his sleep. Oliver shied away from the heat. He wasn't used to feeling cold, hadn't been the slightest bit chilled in centuries, but he didn't want the witch or the Lances to know of his deteriorated state. Luckily, he wore a thick jacket, which helped fight off the wintry air.

Tommy and Thea hauled the casket into the parlor. None of their guests blinked an eye at the ornate coffin. Diggle, no doubt, could sense the magic warding the casket and knew there was more to the story. Laurel had seen the coffin before and met its occupant. Quentin was the surprise, but then as the human liaison to the supernatural he'd probably seen odder things.

Oliver warmly hugged his half-sister who then pranced over to Laurel to hug the werewolf-witch. Despite Oliver's mistakes when it came to Laurel, the two women had formed a solid friendship. Laurel happily greeted Thea, then the two took a seat on the sofa and quietly caught up on the last couple of months. Quentin stood protectively behind them.

Tommy gave a small nod of warning before night truly fell. All eyes turned to the casket as the hatches clicked open – of their own accord. The top half of the casket rose upward silently, and Moira Queen rolled her neck as she sat up. She wore the same outfit from the previous night, a touch rumpled, but she paid that no heed as she caught sight of their guests. She climbed out of her coffin, asking; "What's the problem this time?"

As Oliver had his curse, so Moira had hers. When Malcolm learned the truth of Oliver's parentage, he went into a rage. First, he killed Oliver's real father and most of the man's bloodline. Then he tried to tear Oliver to pieces, but his biological children chose their half-brother over him. Malcolm had been willing to condemn the three of them to an eternity of suffering until Moira stopped him. Still a witch, while her husband and children were newly made vampires, she cursed Malcolm with a weakness her children didn't have – she made him killable. To do so, she tied her life to Malcolm's. While he existed, she lived, but should she die, he would also, and she was more than willing to take her own life to protect her children. The price, of course, was that they split their shared-life. Malcolm ruled the day, while Moira lived at night.

After centuries, Moira was used to waking amidst stressful situations – it's was why she always went to bed fully clothed. Oliver succinctly explained the events to her. Moira glided over to Laurel. All it took was a brief touch to Laurel's clothed abdomen. Then Moira whirled to her eldest son in shock. "A miracle," she breathed.

And just like that, for the third time in his long existence, Oliver's axis titled.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

"She's staying with us," Oliver informed Diggle.

"Absolutely not," the witch was afraid of losing his bargaining chip.

"You want to start a war in Star City. I want my child protected, at all times. I trust my family to see to that, more than I ever will you."

"I'm not staying here," Laurel butted in and then glared at Diggle when he smirked; "And I won't be staying with you either. I have my own place in the city, my own life. I'm not going to give that up and I won't let any of you dictate how I live my life."

"It's not safe," Oliver growled at her. She was closer now. All he had to do was reach out a hand and he could touch her. To feel the heat of her again. To breath her in. It took all his will-power, but he refrained.

"It hasn't been safe for a wolf in Star City in years. This," she gestured to her stomach, "changes nothing."

"It changes everything," Oliver disagreed.

He towered over her. His temper getting the better of him, instinct clashing with reason. She was too close. Not close enough. Oliver clenched his fists and willed himself to calm down. Laurel stared defiantly back at him, holding her position. She'd never been afraid of him. His free-spirited wolf.

"We had an agreement," she reminded him sternly.

"You weren't pregnant then."

"You can't keep your promise and have this child," Laurel angrily crossed her arms.

"I know and I'm sorry, but don't ask me to give up this chance," Oliver stopped himself, inches from cupping her arms. He couldn't keep all his desire from his voice. He wanted both of them, but he'd take what he could get.

Laurel looked into his eyes and whatever she saw there had her stepping back. She dropped her gaze and swallowed hard. Oliver knew then she wouldn't deny him his child; he felt some relief at that.

"Laur, please, baby. Do it for me then," Quentin walked over, and she turned to face her father; "Queen is right. You'll be safer with his family than on your own, and I'll rest easier at night knowing you're protected."

Laurel studied her father and at last, quietly nodded her consent. Oliver felt the pressure in his chest ease. His mother would set up the most powerful wards she knew that night. They'd move Laurel in the next day. Then she'd be protected, even if his heart would ache to be so close to her yet apart.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

**Two Months Ago**

_**Laurel wore a shimmering red dress and strappy black heels as she sang into the mic. She swayed gently to the love song dancing off her lips. Couples clung to each other on the dance floor while the singletons watched her mesmerized. Laurel stepped off the stage to a room of applause, magic thrumming in her veins. She accepted a glass of water, shrugged into her black leather jacket, and took the back exit out of the club. The night was young, the full moon weeks away, and Laurel wanted to enjoy herself.**_

"_**That was beautiful," a black-haired man peeled off the wall, tossing away his cigarette butt; "You're beautiful."**_

"_**I try my best and thank you for the compliment. Have a good night," Laurel tried to edge her way around the man. He blocked her path, but she wasn't scared. He was only human.**_

"_**Where do you think you're going?" the man grabbed her arm, hard.**_

"_**Let go," Laurel yanked free of his grip. He reached for her again, but then a blurred form spun him around.**_

"_**The lady's not interested," Oliver looked the man coolly in the eye. Laurel could tell the Progenitor was compelling the man, because of the human's slack expression; "You're going to leave her alone. And whenever you think of accosting a woman again, you're going to find the nearest set of stairs and toss yourself down them."**_

_**Oliver stepped out of the human's path and the man woodenly walked away. Once he was out of sight, Laurel scowled at her rescuer. "I could've handled him on my own."**_

"_**I know you can, but you shouldn't have to put up with the likes of him."**_

"_**As opposed to the likes of you," Laurel replied scathingly. Oliver didn't even flinch. Instead he gestured towards the street and asked; "Would you like to get something to eat?"**_

"_**Fine," Laurel grumbled. She was hungry. Her werewolf side meant she never passed on a free meal, even when it came from Oliver Queen.**_

_**She led him to a diner she enjoyed. Her favorite in Gotham. They ordered, the food came, and he watched her as she dug in. Laurel ignored him as best she could. They left a lot unsaid between them and that was the way she preferred it. **_

_**He'd wooed her once. Seduced her into believing he loved her. She'd been ready to give him everything until she learned of his lies. Three years later and he continued to haunt her with these visits.**_

"_**You disappeared for a while there, a whole five months. I was starting to think you'd finally given up on me," Laurel commented to break the silence. She didn't want to give him anything, but she needed a break from his stare. She hated how he studied her, knowing exactly what he was doing to her from the beating of her heart to the attraction that left her flushed.**_

"_**Some upstarts out east, fancied themselves a league. They took a while to dust," Oliver shrugged casually; "I heard you're moving back home."**_

"_**What's it to you?" Laurel muttered, irritated. She had to hold to her anger, to not let herself believe there was a touch of concern in his voice. **_

_**She stilled loved him and he knew it, but the truth divided them. He only wanted her to break his curse. She was the first werewolf-witch of her bloodline since Sara, the ancestor whose blood had been used to bind him. She'd wanted to move on from him, to find anyone else to love, but she always found herself comparing the others to him and most fell short. The few that had held potential . . . well, Oliver had scared off the first and Laurel pushed the rest away.**_

"_**Been a while since I visited Star City. It will be nice to see again," Oliver offered her a teasing smile. She hated her body for the butterflies that smile produced.**_

"_**You're never going to give up, not until you get what you want," Laurel sighed. Oliver dropped the lustful grin and regarded her seriously. When he answered, his face was unreadable; "No, I won't give up."**_

"_**Then let's make a deal. I'll give you what you want and afterwards you give me a night I'll never forget. When it's done, we're done, and you stay away from whatever city I'm in."**_

_**The asinine curse required her to be a virgin and an active werewolf, as Sara had been. Laurel had been furious when she discovered he'd been compelling her boyfriends to never go that far with her. He'd waited until she was desperate and confused, certain that there was something wrong with her. Then he'd swooped in. His original plan had backfired, but he refused to let her go. She'd considered a casual hook-up, just to get him off her back, but she wanted her first time to be with someone special. Someone she loved. And despite the torment he'd put her through, she wanted that someone to be Oliver; she wanted him and only him.**_

"_**One night and then we're through?" Oliver clarified, his mask difficult to scrutinize. Laurel couldn't tell if he found her offer disgusting or laughable. She couldn't decide which would be more mortifying.**_

"_**Yes," she answered, fighting a blush. A part of her regretted making the offer already. Yes, she wanted him. Yet how else would she be able to move on if he continued to plague her? She wouldn't, even with him half the world away, her unhelpful heart warned her. **__Shut up__**, she thought back, **__and stop pining__**. **_

_**Oliver agreed to her offer and insisted they seal the deal with a kiss. The moment his lips brushed hers, Laurel's nerves from head to toes were set ablaze. Then his tongue demanded entrance into her mouth, his strong hands cradled her head, and Laurel forgot everything else but him.**_

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

As they left the mansion behind, and within it Laurel and his unborn child, Oliver felt his vampiric strength returning. With it came his other senses and crystalline memory. The scent of her still lingered in the car they'd used to transport her to the mansion. He lost himself in a memory of her. Her soft giggle the first time he kissed her, and their noses got in the way. Her breathless groan of "Ollie," as he tasted and sucked his way down her neck. Her gasp as he teasingly nipped her pulse point. He hadn't felt so alive in centuries until he held her in his arms that first time and he realized he couldn't go through with his original plan to use her and be done. Somehow, she'd snuck under his skin without him noticing.

The city swallowed them whole while he lost himself in those happier moments with his love. It was his brother's words that brought him back to the present.

"They've done well for themselves," Tommy commented when they arrived at their destination.

The high rise was a smokescreen of corporate success. Oliver felt neither admiration nor intimidation at the sight. He'd met too many leaders without a drop of power to their name to be fooled at the display of wealth and prestige. Tommy knew the same, but he played into the games of pedigree and propriety while Oliver hacked his own path.

They were led from a tasteful lobby into a large meeting room complete with a huge wood table and an impressive view of the city. The Governors left them waiting for half an hour. A pretense of power which Oliver allowed them, because today was about testing the waters, not burning bridges. At last they sauntered in, single-file. There were five of them in total, but only three held any real power. The same three who'd once meant something more to various members of his family over the centuries.

There was Walter, the third man their mother had ever loved. He'd chosen immortality over marriage and her heart. To be fair, that had been Oliver's doing. A test which the other man had failed. Then there was Felicity, the former witch he'd once been infatuated with. She'd betrayed him, so he'd cursed her to walk the night; forever cut off from her magic. Finally, there was Roy, the boy he and Tommy had raised; a man who once loved their sister. They'd thought him dead at Malcolm's hand. By the time they'd learned the truth, the damage had been done, and he refused to hear their attempts to make amends.

The other two hardly mattered. The dark-haired Isabel had a reputation which preceded her, one almost as terrifying as Oliver's. They said she was a brutal fighter and a psychopath. The other man who went by the name Curtis was a nobody who clung to Felicity's shadow.

"Impressive set up. Thought a bit on the nose – Bloodsource Corp," Tommy addressed the Governors with a charming smile. Oliver elected to glower.

"We are a transfusion and transplant company," Walter was willing to be congenial. The others barely masked their frowns or disgust, except for Roy who wore a blank expression. They'd raised their boy well.

"Must be exhausting, maintaining the human façade day after day, year after year. Personally, I never saw the appeal," Oliver commented with a smirk meant to lash. He succeeded as Felicity bristled and snapped. "Any easy price to pay to rule in the plain of day rather than grasping from the shadows."

"Ruling? Oh, so you're saying those rumors about you controlling the witches and werewolves are true?" Oliver scoffed.

"We have an understanding, in which they acknowledge our more experienced judgement when it comes to what's best for the city," Walter replied a touch too quickly. A sensitive subject, good.

"Doesn't sound much like ruling to me. What of you, brother?" Oliver pivoted to Tommy after a mocking smile for their hosts.

"When we speak, they listen. When we call, they heel. That's more than you ever accomplished," Felicity snipped. Clearly a century of immortal life had done nothing to gentle her temper or tongue. Oliver leered at her.

"And what will you do when one of them tires of listening and heeling?" Tommy kept his tone polite.

"We use them as an example of disobedience, the way you do upstarts." Roy answered; cool, dismissive. Unmoved at the violence he referenced. A concept he once cringed to consider.

"Such obedience is hard kept in the long run. You sound as if you could use some help," Tommy hid his regret over Roy's attitude. Oliver knew how his brother was feeling, because he felt the same. They had failed Roy in the end.

"From you?" Felicity scoffed at the implied offer. Curtis snorted in agreement, no doubt emboldened by Felicity's behavior. Oliver turned to the fresh blood, scenting an opportunity.

"Something you'd like to say?"

Curtis launched to his feet without a glance at Felicity. No doubt he wished to impress his sire with his courage in the face of danger. Definitely, a newbie. "You think because you're the Progenitors, you can just waltz in here and take control, but that's not how this works. They built this empire, which means they call the shots, not you."

"Such big words for an unbreeched boy," Oliver tutted, annoyed with the cocky attitude of a mere child to his centuries of experience.

"Then let me speak plainly. You aren't welcome here. You aren't wanted. Go back to whatever rock you crawled out from because we aren't afraid to stand up to you. We aren't _afraid_ of you."

"Fool," Oliver uttered as his temper snapped. He rushed the younger vampire in a blink and dug his teeth into Curtis's throat. His venomous werewolf teeth, not his fangs. Then he tossed the upstart onto the wood table, finished with the lesson.

"I'd say show more respect to your betters the next time. Alas, your future's looking rather short," Tommy commented, unruffled at the display of Oliver's temper. Maintaining the image of family cohesion.

With that parting note, the brothers left.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

"You're an idiot," Thea declared the moment she cornered Oliver in the receiving room. It was just the two of them in the mansion. Dawn had come hours ago, so Moira was back in her coffin in a death sleep. Tommy was out compelling a cleaning crew and workmen to fix up their old home while the Lances were at Laurel's packing her things up. The witch, Diggle, had left shortly after the deal had been struck for the Progenitors to remove the Governors from Star City. Not that Thea particularly cared about the Glades witch, but he was a pest she'd be keeping her eyes on.

"I know. I shouldn't have let myself slip like that, but it's one thing to take insults from those I know, and another to let a complete stranger tell me I'm less than dirt, five minutes after we're introduced," Oliver grumbled. To be honest, Thea didn't care about the baby vampire either. She was more concerned with how Oliver was handling his werewolf aggression and she told him as much.

"I'm fine, Thea, truly. It's like when we first turned, when everything was amplified. Only this time, its just my temper. I can handle it, especially since I already have to tools to do so."

"If you say so, but you'd better get control soon. I won't have you scaring Laurel," Thea sat down on the piano bench next to Oliver. A small smiled tugged at his lips.

"You won't have to worry about that. Laurel's never been afraid of me."

Thea shared his amusement. That fierce fearlessness was what had drawn them to her in the first place. Now Thea had a best friend and Oliver was the fool who let her get away.

"How were they?" Thea asked after a few minutes of silence. Oliver didn't need her to clarify to know what she was really asking.

"They were darker, harder than when we last knew them. Even Roy," he sighed.

"That bothers you more than it used to," Thea noted.

"I just can't help but think, they are what they are, because of us. I make more enemies than I do friends. How can I be trusted to raise a child? What kind of father brings up a child in such violence? Maybe it would be better if I walked away now, let Laurel raise the baby far away from me and my history."

"Now you're being an even bigger idiot," Thea lightly thumped the back of his head; "They weren't children when we met them. Yes, our choices affected them, but they made their own decisions. They chose to become what they are now. This baby will be different. You can be different. This miracle child is a chance for us all."

"Thank you, Thea," Oliver pressed a kiss to her hairline. He made it to the doorway before Thea voiced the question on her heart.

"Was our Roy truly gone?"

"He's different, but I wouldn't say all hope is lost," Oliver answered after a thoughtful minute.

"How can you be certain?"

"Because he was disappointed when he realized you weren't there."

Oliver left, and Thea sat on the bench, smiling softly. Perhaps there were more miracles coming than they knew.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Quentin wished for his wife's calming presence as he watched Laurel pack her last suitcase. Despite their werewolf natures, both Dinah and Laurel were gentle souls. They'd focused on the positive aspects of their magic, rather than their instincts. Dinah had never activated her wolf, but, unfortunately, the accident that pushed Laurel to the brink of death and triggered her, had also taken Dinah from them. Quentin had tried to protect his daughter, but he'd been helpless when Oliver began his pursuit of Laurel. Unaware of the full danger to her until it was too late.

"It will be okay," Laurel pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" he joked weakly.

"We can still do lunch at Bertinelli's on Saturdays," Laurel smiled at him, continuing to tuck away her clothes.

"Of course, and I'll come out to visit you. I expect weekly updates on my grandchild."

"You're going to spoil it rotten."

"You betcha I am," Quentin vowed and pulled his daughter into a hug.

"I wish Mom were here," Laurel murmured after they parted. Her hand rubbed gently across her abdomen.

"She is here, baby, she is. And she's proud of you," Quentin reminded her. There were tears in Laurel's eyes which he knew were reflected in his own.

There was a knock on her apartment door. Quentin told Laurel to keep packing while he answered. Queen stood on the other side. "Oliver."

"Quentin," Oliver nodded and for a beat they stood there. Then, begrudgingly, Quentin shifted so the hybrid could enter. Oliver smiled ruefully; "I haven't been invited in."

Quentin stepped outside and shut the door to give Laurel some privacy. Oliver stepped back without comment and checked that the other apartment doors remained closed. Quentin didn't care much for the man who'd knocked up his daughter, but he respected the Progenitor's power and his history of violence and mercy.

"Listen, I know you're going to do what you think you have to, to protect your family, but please don't start a war in Star City. When your kind fight, there are always human casualties. Families, who never get answers. They may not mean much to you in a few centuries, but they matter to me."

"I'll try my best, but they come first," Oliver nodded deliberately in the direction of Laurel.

As far as protectors went, she could do worse than one of the first vampires to roam the earth; an unkillable man. Still, that wouldn't make it easier for him to sleep at night.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

The ride back to the mansion was filled with a heavy silence. Laurel tried to shift as little as possible in the passenger seat. Oliver kept his eyes focused on the road. It was just the two of them. Alone. For the first time since that night.

He'd certainly fulfilled his end of the bargain. There was no way in several lifetimes that she'd be able to forget their night together. His mouth on hers, hungry and tempting. His hands ghosting up her thighs, teasing. His breath tickling down her stomach, caressing bare skin, lower and lower.

"For what its worth, I'm going to protect both of you with everything I have."

"I don't need your protection," Laurel reiterated the point she'd made to him months ago.

"I know, and I know you would've been more than capable of loving and protecting this child on your own," his admittance mollified her some.

"I wasn't going to tell you, about the baby," she blurted out, feeling guilty. Because he'd deserved to know, but she made the decision early on to hide her baby's paternity from everyone, including her father and Oliver. She'd regretted her decision, some, but she kept true to the choice she'd made. At least until one of Diggle's witches read her aura and took the choice from her.

"That would've been for the best, before," Oliver agreed quietly, not angry; "With so many people knowing the truth now, it's no longer practical to pretend I don't know."

He sounded bitter at the end. She wanted to ask if he regretted this child or just regretted having it with her. Did he regret their agreement? She didn't. She was glad she gave Oliver the freedom to be whole again. She was happy to have known his touch, if only for one night. And she would never in a million years regret this beautiful life growing inside her, a child fathered by the man she loved.

She only wished he felt the same about her.

"Was any of it real?" Laurel asked, her heart pounding. She'd promised herself she'd never ask, but now she needed to know. Needed to remind her fickle heart there was no reason to hope.

"Was what real?"

"Us, as a couple. Your feelings, for me."

Oliver's grip on the wheel tightened ever so slightly for a moment. Her question hung between them. Then Oliver looked at her, his face unreadable. "No."

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Tommy wanted to shove his brother out of the highest window of the mansion. Or toss him down the stairs. In his current condition, Oliver would take days to heal from his injuries and he'd suffer every moment. Unfortunately, their current predicament prevented proper punishment – they couldn't risk anyone finding out about Oliver's new curse, not even Laurel. As such, Tommy had to console himself with tracking his brother down and giving him a hard slap to the back of the head. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Because you're a selfish, inconsiderate example of the male species. You're a lousy prat who enjoys suffering. If you weren't my brother, I'd be wooing Laurel into my arms where I'd treasure her for the jewel she is."

"You'd better stay away from Laurel," Oliver growled.

"Why? You're not pursuing her."

"Leave her alone!" Oliver's eyes flashed gold. The sign of his wolf and his possessive temper.

"You're a fool, brother. You want her, yet ever opportunity she gives you, you push her further away. Eventually, she will give up on you. Find someone more reciprocal of her affections."

"Good," Oliver grumbled, stalking to his window. His reactions at odds with his response.

"You could be happy, Oliver. Why deny yourself this chance?"

"How can I admit to loving her after everything I've put her through? I manipulated her, tormented her, and used her for my own selfish purposes. I am a monster. Unworthy of her love, and she deserves someone better than me."

"Oliver," Tommy went to object, but Oliver waved him silent.

"I know I have done terrible things to you, our sister and mother, and yet you've forgiven me. We are blood. We're family. We swore to stick together forever, but Laurel's made no such vow. She deserves a life of happiness and peace, of being cherished everyday without question. I cannot give that to her. I'm trying to let her go. To give her a chance at a better life, even if I must crush my heart in the process to see it so."

Tommy sighed. Oliver had more to offer than he believed. Tommy wanted to argue with his mule-headed brother, but there wasn't time. Dusk was upon them, Moira would rise soon. There was much work to be done. A plan to draw up. A city to take. A mother and child to protect.

And a better future to build.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

With a devilish smile, Oliver appeared in the spare bedroom of Felicity's opulent apartment where Curtis lay dying. Oliver held up a wrist in peace, then bit into his own vein. He offered an apology and a cure to his bite as a sign of goodwill. Curtis began to recover, Felicity snarled, but Walter and Roy made the deciding call – the Merlyn-Queen family was invited to stay in Star City as guests of the Governors.

Across town, Tommy entered a busy nightclub after compelling the bouncer to let him in – the club had a no-vampire rule. The music thrummed around him. Enticing, delicate human bodies writhed and bounced on the dance floor. Tommy let himself into the manger's office above the dance floor. He smiled cheekily at the dark-haired beauty next to Diggle, another witch who sniffed in distaste at his arrival. Tommy's smiled grew wider. "I've come to discuss the terms of our business deal." He took a seat across from his temporary ally.

A little way out from the mansion, Moira knelt next to a map working in candlelight. A pendant swung on a chain off her fingers as she chanted. The pendant circled smaller and smaller onto a specific portion of the map. She was searching for her former husband, to ensure he wasn't already in the city before she cast her wards to keep him out. Word would eventually reach Malcolm about the baby and he would come to torment them all with a new sense of rage. Moira would keep him away for as long as she could. And when the time came, she would make certain he never had a chance to touch a hair on her grandchild's head.

On the outskirts of the city, Thea wandered to an old meeting place. A secret spot for two lovers seeking to steal a few hours in each other's arms; unguarded, tender moments. The old clocktower was worse for wear, but Thea entered anyway. She knew in a heartbeat she wasn't alone. "Hello, lover," he stepped out of the shadows with a calculating, roguish grin. Thea felt her heart flutter. "Roy."

Quentin was working behind the bar again; his normal bartender had called in sick. He turned around after passing over another drink order to find a blonde in glasses staring at him hungrily. With a tight jaw, Quentin approached the vampire. Felicity smiled daintily, blood tinging her lips.

A sliver of moonlight danced across Laurel's features. Her hair spread across the pillow in golden waves. She wrinkled her nose at something in her dream and one hand reflexively opened and closed above her abdomen. Standing in the shadows, Oliver watched over her and their unborn child; protectively, longingly.

The End


	4. No Rest for the Wicked

_The usual disclaimers apply._

**A/N: **I'm not a lawyer or law student, so my legal knowledge is pretty much based off the criminal investigation shows I watch. Like _Common Law_. If an error is especially glaring, please let me know. Thanks.

* * *

No Rest for the Wicked

Two women walked into a rental office space. An impersonal room on the first floor of a three-story brick building. White laminate floors, light gray walls, and windows galore on the two exterior walls. It was a room large enough to host dance lessons or several rows of cubicles, but a small circle of chairs occupied the center of the room today. The women were the last to arrive to the meeting.

The first, blonde-haired and scowling, was dressed impeccably in a light gray pantsuit with a pale blue blouse. Her hair was pulled back in a strict bun and her matching gray loafers were sensible but stylish. The second woman wore comfortable jeans, a black leather jacket, and a smirk. Her long brown hair billowed loosely around her shoulders and her boots were black with barely any heel.

"Ah, you found us. Welcome, welcome," a smiling man stood up and gestured for the two women to join those sitting in the circle of chairs. He was about their age and dark-haired. "I'm Dr. Merlyn, and you must be Dinah and Laurel." The women were doing a remarkable job of not acknowledging each other even as they walked side-by-side.

"Dinah Drake," the brunette said.

"Laurel Lance," the blonde added. They took the only remaining seats in the circle, sitting next to each other and almost directly across from Dr. Merlyn. There were six more people in the group, all couples.

"This is Barry and Iris," Dr. Merlyn gestured to the couple on his right, who were to the left of Laurel. "Then we have Jefferson and Lynn, and Roy and Thea." Merlyn indicated the first couple to his left, and then the couple to the right of Dinah.

"I think it's wonderful you're seeking help. We voted for you," Lynn leaned around her husband to smile at the newcomers to the group.

"What? No. We're not a couple," Dinah denied immediately.

"We're partners, detectives," Laurel clarified. She pulled back her blazer to brandish the gold shield on her hip while Dinah tugged her shield out from under her shirt. Lynn let out a soft "oh" and sat back in her seat.

"Why are you in couples' therapy then?" Barry inquired politely, though that still earned him a small smack on the shoulder from his wife.

"A strong partnership, whether romantic or platonic, is built on the same foundation," Dr. Merlyn tried to redirect the conversation back to the focus of the meeting.

"A partnership also works better if one half doesn't have anger management issues and no respect for the law," Laurel snarked.

"If you hadn't pulled your gun on me, we wouldn't be here," Dinah shot back.

"I wouldn't have had to, if you'd listened to me and used your head," Laurel snapped. Dinah scoffed. "Right, because the great Lance is never wrong."

"Detectives, Laurel, Dinah, please. We aren't here to argue, but to find a better means of communication," Merlyn interrupted. The detectives quieted, but only stopped glaring at each other when they turned to face the doctor instead. "You know, why don't we discuss communication today? Specifically, how to talk to each other when we have a disagreement without arguing or speaking in the heat of the moment."

Dr. Merlyn turned to look at Jefferson and Lynn, to begin the discussion with an example from them. At that exact second, two phones went off. Dinah and Laurel fished out their guilty cells. Dinah smiled in a relief while Laurel remained stoic. "Sorry doc, duty calls."

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

A sleek silver compact rolled into a parking spot at the edge of a city park near a walking trail. Two police cruisers and cautionary tape already marked the scene. Laurel and Dinah stepped out of the car, the latter complaining; "All I'm saying is you drive like an old lady and your taste in music should be illegal."

"I'm not going to flout traffic laws just because I wear a badge, and my taste in music is better than yours," Laurel grumbled as they crossed under the tape and beneath a pedestrian bridge.

"I thought they broke you two up," the medical examiner, Dr. Caitlin Snow, commented as she inspected the body.

"The Powers that Be thought it would be more interesting to see which one of us killed the other first," Dinah retorted without missing a beat.

Laurel rolled her eyes at Dinah's immature response, then focused on the case at hand. "What can you tell us about the vic?" Dinah ignored Laurel and squatted next to Caitlin and the body.

"John Doe, I'm afraid. Caucasian, late twenties. Stabbed twice in the lower abdomen," Caitlin answered, pulling back the victim's bloody shirt to reveal the wounds; "Died of exsanguination."

"Not a lot of blood around here for wounds like that," Dinah noted.

"See the discoloration here," the doctor had to push the body onto its side to give the detectives a peak; "This tells me the body was moved after death, probably in the tarp we found him under."

"So, our vic was stabbed and bled to death at another location, then transported here and dumped. This isn't exactly an out of the way place to hide a body, which means the killer wanted him found. Then why take the wallet and ID, and the vic's shoes?" Dinah wondered.

"Look closer at the shirt and pants. They're expensive brands. Whoever our victim was, he didn't belong in this neighborhood," Laurel looked at either end of the underpass.

The locals had gathered at the edges of the police tape. The only brand names the people of the Glades saw were from a thrift shop or local charity. Dinah rejoined her partner, standing to examine the scene and the neighborhood to understand why their killer would leave the body here.

"South exit, eleven o'clock. Black hoodie, slender build. Those are Wayne's if I'm not mistaken," Laurel noted quietly. Dinah discreetly checked out the young man, pretending to fix her hair. She noted the shoes her partner had spotted. "I see him."

"Ten bucks he runs," Laurel murmured as she and Dinah began to casually walk in the direction of their target. Dinah snorted and didn't take the bet.

They didn't get more than ten paces before the youth rabbited. Dinah cursed as she and Laurel broke into a run. Pedestrians, without fail, hindered them; giving the youngster a head start as they cleared the crime scene. The detectives chased him from the bridge, back into the urban environment off the interstate. The youth tried to lose them among several brick apartments with first floor stores, but the detectives split up. Laurel stayed on his tail, sprinting to make up the lost ground, while Dinah cut through an open store. She burst out the back door and came out right on the youth's heels. She grabbed his hoodie and wrangled him into the nearest wall. Laurel reached them a second later and aimed her gun at the suspect. He stopped struggling immediately.

"I didn't do nothin'," he panted.

"If you didn't do anything, why'd you run?" Laurel retorted.

"I don't like cops."

"Detectives. We're detectives," Dinah huffed as she checked the youth for an ID. She found two wallets on him and tossed the cheaper, frayed one to Laurel.

"You're going to want to try better than that, Marcus Chavis," Laurel drawled.

"Start with why you've got Clyde Mardon's wallet on you, and his shoes. Did you kill him?" Dinah questioned. She found a switchblade on the kid as well and dangled the weapon in his face.

"No! I found this stuff. Not like the dead guy needs them. Finders keepers and all that," Marcus said, but his nerves gave him away.

"Found it, I'd say, right after he killed Clyde. We've got a knife and Mardon's possessions on him. Looks like a robbery gone wrong to me. Let's book him and let him sweat a night in jail, bet he'll be more talkative then," Laurel pulled out her handcuffs.

"You can't do that," Marcus denied.

"Sure, we can. Who do you think the jury's going to believe? Two well-respected detectives or some punk from the Glades who takes a dead man's shoes," Dinah wrestled him around, getting his hands behind his back. She clamped the handcuffs on and he freaked.

"Wait, wait. I didn't kill that guy. I found him like that, took his shoes and wallet, that's all."

"Yeah, not buying it. You got to give us more," Laurel said.

"A blue van! I saw a blue van stalled at the underpass for a long time. Then it took off in a hurry. That's why I went to check it out."

"What kind of blue van?" Dinah demanded.

"I dunno, it was blue and a van."

"What time did you see this van?"

"Around five o'clock this morning. It made a lot of noise when it came in, and went it shot away. That's proof, right? You're not going to arrest me, are you?"

"Of course, we are. Just not for murder. You stole from a dead body and ran from a crime scene with evidence," Laurel informed him, and Marcus hung his head in defeat.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Dinah and Laurel had handed off their small-time thief and dropped the stolen evidence with CSU. Marcus had also snagged a phone off Clyde and their resident geek was very pleased to be of use. They'd just returned to their bullpen when their captain stepped out of his office.

"Drake, Lance. A word. Now," John Diggle barked.

"What did you do now?" Laurel huffed as they hastened to obey.

"Me? What about you?" Dinah replied. The ladies glared at each other briefly until they reached Diggle's door, where they immediately focused their attention on him. "Something up, Captain?"

"Oh, I just wanted to see how your first therapy session went. Dr. Merlyn is a real-life saver."

"Our therapy sessions are supposed to be confidential, sir," Laurel answered politely.

"Yes, of course. I remember. You know, if it weren't for Dr. Merlyn, Lyla and I probably would've divorced, again. That man almost single-handedly saved our marriage, so I know you two are in good hands. And if you put in the effort, it will do wonders for your partnership."

Dinah and Laurel shared an exasperated look, which Diggle missed as he was staring fondly at a picture of his wife. "Just remember detectives, if this doesn't work, your careers are over." Perhaps he wasn't that distracted as they'd originally thought.

"Is that all, Captain?" Dinah asked, itching to get back to work.

"No, there is one more thing. Clyde Mardon's father has pull down in City Hall. The DA wanted to reassign this case to Hall and Schott. I convinced him to leave the case in the hands of our best detectives, that you two had settled your differences. So, you'd better not prove me wrong," John gave them both a hard look.

"You've got nothing to fear, Captain. Lance and I here are all good, we're besties now," Dinah replied, clapping Laurel on the back.

"We're professionals, sir," Laurel agreed, shrugging her shoulder to remove Dinah's hand.

"We'll see about that. Now go, solve a murder," John waved them out of his office.

Laurel waited until they were out of earshot before rounding on Dinah. "If you ever touch me like that again, I'll shoot you."

"Please, as if you could shoot me. We both know I'm the better shot," Dinah retorted. Laurel scoffed at her claim.

They returned to their desks. They had some paperwork to fill-out regarding the arrest they'd made, an initial crime scene analysis to review, and some background digging to do into their victim. With a few eye-rolls and withering looks, they set about their tasks.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Joshua Mardon, father of the late Clyde Mardon, owned a very nice house in the Central District of the ocean bluff city. Three acres of landscaped forest and greenery with a large backyard pool, a seven-foot gated fence, and at least five thousand square feet of house. Dinah mocked envious as they rolled up the winding drive and asked Laurel if she missed her chance to own such swag; Laurel shot her partner an unamused glare.

They were both completely professional when they met with Joshua Mardon on his back patio, which was almost the size of Dinah's studio. There they delivered the sad news of Clyde's death to his father. "You have our condolences, sir."

"Clyde, oh Clyde," Joshua murmured his son's name sadly, but not stricken, at the information.

"My apologies, sir, but you don't appear to be shaken with this news," Laurel commented, because most people were shocked when their child randomly ended up dead at the prime of life.

"I understand your concern, detective. The truth is I've been expecting this for years. Ever since Clyde got hooked on those cursed drugs," Joshua sighed, his weariness and age showing for second on his well-tanned face.

"Clyde was an addict?" Dinah prompted gently.

"To heroin. He OD'd, didn't he?"

"No, Mr. Mardon. We're sorry to inform you, your son was murdered."

"Murdered?" Joshua gasped, horrified.

"Yes. Do you know if he knew anyone in the Starling area of the Glades?" Dinah asked.

"Uh, Starling area you said. That's where the city built a park, correct? Clyde's dealer lived around there I believe. He was supposed to be in rehab, you know," Joshua Mardon rambled, the shock setting in; "I didn't think he'd last. This was the third time I put him in rehab in as many years. My son had a weakness for drugs, he just couldn't seem to kick it."

"When was the last time you spoke to or saw Clyde?" Dinah helped keep Joshua focused, shifting to be in the white-haired man's line of sight.

"That would've been two weeks ago. Clyde received his one-month sobriety chip."

"We'll need to know what rehab Clyde was staying at, and we'll need your permission to search his room, to look for clues," Laurel mentioned. Joshua nodded in mute understanding.

Joshua's phone chirped and he looked at the screen. Pain rippled anew across his face at what he saw. "Who was that?" Dinah inquired.

"My younger son, Mark. He doesn't know about Clyde – how I am supposed to tell him his brother was murdered?"

"Were Clyde and Mark close?"

"Yes. Ever since they were boys, but Mark is smart. He's in college, has a 4.0 GPA. He's always been the good son. He's going to be devastated." The detectives gave him a moment as he shuddered in grief before making a herculean effort to refocus on them and their questions.

"Do you recognize this phone number?" Laurel handed Joshua a paper slip with a number written on it.

"No, should I?"

"It was the last number Clyde called on his phone," Dinah explained; "We're going to need to speak with Mark."

"He's at class now. I need a chance to break this to him gently."

"If you'll give us his number, we'll set up an interview with him later," Laurel conceded. Joshua nodded and gave them Mark's phone number.

They thanked him and showed themselves out. When their backs were to them, Joshua Mardon slumped, hiding his face in his hands.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Dr. Merlyn's couples therapy group was meeting again in the rented office space. They sat in a circle while he led another discussion, this time about one's partner's annoying habits.

"I guess I'd have to say, what bothers me the most is how I'm always the bad guy at home. Jefferson never wants to punish the girls, even when they admit to breaking one of our rules," Lynn finished her thought with an exasperated look for her husband.

"Jefferson, anything you'd like to say?" Dr. Merlyn asked.

"I'll admit, maybe I do go soft on the girls at home. It's because I know it's not easy for them at school, having me as their principal. I expect more of them there than I do the other students, because they're a reflection of me, and I guess I want a time when they don't feel that pressure from me," Jeff admitted.

"While it's good you want to have a meaningful relationship with your daughters, you have to remember it's important to set a united front. Otherwise, Lynn will feel alone in times of conflict," Merlyn counseled.

"You're right. I'm sorry, baby," Jefferson offered Lynn an earnest, apologetic smile; "I'll try and do better."

"We can discuss how you can work together to address these problems in a minute. Roy and Thea, would you like to go next?"

"Oh, I can't think of anything that bothers me," Thea shrugged with a loving look for Roy. He voiced a similar sentiment.

Laurel scoffed.

"You disagree, why?" Dr. Merlyn turned on her. The rest of the group looked at her as well, Dinah raising her eyebrows challengingly. Laurel stiffened her shoulders and jutted her chin just a touch.

"Everyone has their pet peeves. Even with those they love the most. Take you two for example," Laurel nodded at Thea and Roy; "You wear the best brands and you're very careful about your looks. Roy, on the other hand, is wearing an old hoodie with a greasy stain on the sleeve. I bet he leaves his dirty clothes wherever he drops them and that annoys you to no end, while she buys you new clothes and nags you to wear the latest fashion when you just want your comfortable t-shirt and jeans."

The pinched expression on Thea's face and Roy's refusal to look at his wife, suggested Laurel had hit a particular vexation on the head. "See, I'm right. The people we love the most are usually the ones we want to strangle most often."

"What about you? What does Dinah do that you wish she wouldn't?" Merlyn asked before either Roy or Thea could get defensive.

"She's sloppy, obdurate, and impetuous," Laurel replied immediately.

"Dinah?"

"She's neurotic, likes to use big words to show off, and is a control freak. Take her car for example. She never lets me drive it or bring food into it and she takes over two spots, parking at an angle, every time."

"It's a Mercedes-Benz, of course I'm not going to let you drive it or leave stains because your drink or food "accidently" spills. And I park that way so that no one dents or scratches my car."

"Oliver wouldn't care," Dinah retorted.

"Don't play that card, it makes you sound like a puerile child," Laurel scowled at Dinah. "Who's Oliver?" Dr. Merlyn asked.

"No one," Laurel answered.

"Her ex-fiancé," Dinah clarified.

"You were engaged?" Iris looked surprised, and she wasn't the only one.

"Did he decide he couldn't handle your job?" Barry asked.

"No," Laurel tossed a glare Barry's way for that prying question.

"She broke up with him," Dinah answered, enjoying her partner's torment.

"Was he a slob?" Roy muttered.

"I don't want to talk about Oliver. Dr. Merlyn?"

Merlyn could see the situation had gotten out of hand and that Laurel was about to go firmly on the defensive. He quickly redirected the conversation back to the original topic. Dinah smirked for a while, liking nothing better than to get under her partner's cool demeanor and rile her up. Laurel spent the rest of the session refuse to talk and glowering at everyone who so much as glanced her way.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Dr. Snow had finished her autopsy, so Dinah and Laurel visited her after their therapy session.

"Unfortunately, the killer didn't leave any DNA samples," Dr. Snow began. "How rude," Dinah quipped. That earned her a frown from Laurel and an eye roll from Caitlin. "I can tell you that the knife used was one-fourth an inch thick with a hilt and a partially serrated blade. Possibly a hunting knife."

"So, we might be looking for a hunter," Dinah theorized.

"Or someone who owns a hunting knife, collects them, maybe even borrowed one for the occasion," Laurel retorted. A reminder to not jump ahead in ruling out potential suspects. Dinah scowled as she'd only been postulating.

"I did find traces of ammonia and natural biopolymers on the victim's skin – at some point, before Clyde Mardon died, he was near an aquarium," Caitlin added; "But that's all I've got for you. Though I heard Cisco might have more."

"Thanks, Doc," Dinah said, and Laurel echoed as they left the morgue behind.

They passed Detective Hall sharing a quick smooch with her boyfriend in the hall and Laurel's back stiffened at the sight. She kept her eyes forward and marched towards the elevator. Dinah scowled at the couple, muttering under her breath; "Marking our territory are we, McKenna? What's next, seeing whose gun is bigger?"

"Stop it," Laurel lectured, but there was a hint of a smile on her lips in appreciation.

They stepped onto the elevator and mashed the button that would take them to the CSU's floor. A voice called out to them to hold the door and Dinah hee-hawed for a moment, then held the elevator. She stepped to the back of the cart, leaving room next to Laurel for the next body. McKenna Hall's current boyfriend slipped onto the cart with them, offering Laurel an apologetic smile for what she'd seen, but she kept her eyes forward.

"Hello, Laurel. Dinah," Oliver Queen greeted. He gave Dinah a friendly smile, but his gaze kept darting to Laurel who barely nodded to acknowledge his presence.

"Hi Oliver, how long has that been going on?" Dinah questioned and studiously ignored Laurel's venomous glare.

"A few months," he answered, serious.

"Really? Hall's usually a flavor of the month kind of girl, you must be something special."

"I heard you won the Waller trial. Three counts first-degree murder. And against Leonard Snart. That must've been quite the battle of rhetoric in your closing arguments," Laurel forced the conversation to change; "But then you were always great at injecting pathos at the right places."

"Thank you, but it wasn't all me. Detectives Darhk and Garrick brought me a strong case," Oliver shrugged humbly and offered Laurel a warm smile which she hesitantly returned. "I heard you two did a little undercover work to arrest Ricardo Diaz."

"It was nothing," Laurel looked away again.

"Yes, because playing a high-end escort is the dream of every female cop," Dinah said sarcastically; "Though, Laur here had Diaz drooling in a skintight emerald dress."

Dinah smirked when she saw Oliver make a double fist – probably imagining pounding in Diaz's face for even glancing at Laurel. He kept his face neutral, but he was an open book to Dinah. As a bonus, making Oliver jealous also served to annoy Laurel. "What case are you working now?" Oliver asked, trying to keep his tone nonchalant.

"A murder. Body dumped in the Glades. Victim had a drug problem which appears to be a smokescreen the killer is trying to hide behind," Laurel answered.

"You know, McKenna's lucky to have you. Laurel and I can't seem to catch any luck in the dating department," Dinah sighed, watching the other two as she leaned against the wall.

"Are you taking Sara this weekend?" Oliver asked Laurel, ignoring Dinah.

"Yes, I'm taking her to my mom's. We haven't been in while. I'll try and be over around eight on Saturday."

"Okay," Oliver nodded. The elevator opened at his floor, and he climbed off with a farewell wave to both detectives.

Dinah rejoined Laurel at the front of the cart and received a death glare. "What?"

"Butt out of my relationships," Laurel hissed.

Dinah cackled and made no such promises. They exited on the CSU's floor and found their favorite geek pretending to drum at his desk. Laurel tugged one of his earbuds out. "Hey Cisco, what do you have for us?"

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

"Man, if this was the kind of rehab I could afford, I might fake an addiction, to chocolate, to get in here," Dinah joked as she looked around the resort.

"You do have an addiction to chocolate," Laurel tutted.

The Rogues' Rehabilitation and Healing center was more a spa retreat than anything else. There were two pools, an ocean view, and quaint shacks that featured all the amenities one could need. The detectives walked down a stone path with palm trees everywhere, looking for the director of the center.

"Excuse me, miss, could you point us to the man in charge?" Dinah stopped a slim woman with curly black hair. The detectives showed their shields to speed up her cooperation.

"Are you here about Clyde?" the woman asked with a sniff. Her eyes were red, and she clutched a tissue in her hand.

"And you are?" Laurel asked instead.

"Shawna Baez," the woman sniffled; "Is it true, Clyde was … murdered?"

"That will be all, Ms. Baez. Why don't you head to the café and get a nice cup of chamomile tea?" a balding, older man said, laying a comforting hand on Shawna's shoulder. She nodded and scampered away. "Hello there, detectives. I'm Director Lane, this is my rehab center. Mr. Mardon called, said you had permission to search his son's suite. If you'll follow me."

Director Lane was an easy man to get talking, but a difficult man to keep on topic. They asked him a few routine questions about Clyde and how well he knew his patient. Lane took the conversation from there and began to vaunt his program and his own good deeds while pretending to discuss Mardon.

"Is that an aquarium?"

"Yes, all our suites have one. New research has suggested that caring for a pet is very beneficial in the recovery process. I personally . . ."

Dinah and Laurel let him blab while they were busy searching Clyde's room for clues. He was easy to drone out, and occasionally an insight into the program and Mardon slipped into his dialogue. A couple times, Dinah caught Laurel's eye, out of Lane's sight, and rolled her eyes.

There was no evidence of the murder taking place in Clyde's suite. However, in a shoe box under his bed, Laurel found a possible motive. Dinah whistled.

"That looks like what, half a kilo, of heroin?"

"It does indeed. Care to explain how this got on your premise, Director Lane?" Laurel arched an eyebrow at the shocked man.

"I don't know, drugs are strictly forbidden. All clients are carefully searched when they enter the program and random drug sweeps are conducted to ensure they keep to their sobriety. I don't know how we could've missed this."

"Maybe one of your employees smuggled in some fun for the rich boys and girls," Dinah suggested. Director Lane shook his head vehemently. "No, none of my people would've done it. They wouldn't do that to me. Clients are allowed visitors; those meetings aren't strictly monitored. Clyde must've had someone sneak him in the drugs then."

"Do you keep a log of these visitors?" Laurel followed up. Lane gave an affirmative. "Please, get us a copy of Clyde's visitors for the last three months."

Lane marched away, muttering to himself. Laurel and Dinah continued to search the suite for any drug paraphernalia or large pockets of cash. Shawna Baez popped up in the doorway almost as soon as Lane was out of sight. "So, it was murder then. How terrible."

"Did you know the victim well?" Dinah focused on the potential witness.

"As well as you can know anyone in the program," Shawna shrugged. "Clyde and I entered at about the same time."

"Did he ever try to sell you drugs?"

"No, I'm here because I hit rock bottom. I want to get clean, but I'm not surprised about Clyde. He said the first day he arrived that his old man had forced him to come – he wasn't ready to kick the habit yet."

"Did you ever see Clyde selling to any of the other patients or employees? Has he been acting different or unusual in the last few weeks?"

"No," Shawna shook her head but bit her lip.

"What is it?" Laurel prompted firmly.

"I didn't think anything of it at the time, but a couple days ago I overheard Clyde arguing with someone on the phone. I think it was his brother, and he was super pissed after the call ended," Shawna revealed hesitantly. "I think they were arguing about money."

"Here it is, detectives. Ms. Baez, what are you doing here?" Director Lane had returned with a clipboard in hand.

"She was just answering some of our questions, helping us get a better picture of Clyde's last days," Laurel smoothed over any rumpled feathers while Dinah took the visitor log off Lane's hands. Shawna ducked her head and skittered away.

"Look at this, Mark Mardon visits his brother weekly, like clockwork," Dinah pointed to the recurring name on the visitor log; "He's the only one who's visited Clyde in the last month."

"Is there anything else I can help you with, detectives?" Lane asked politely, but a touch impatiently.

"Actually, there is. I saw a blue van in your parking lot on the way in, who does it belong to?" Laurel checked. Lane blanched immediately. "Director?"

"It's mine, but I loan it out to the employees and clients from time to time. I keep the keys in my office."

"Is your office easy to access?"

"Yes."

"And do all the patients know this?"

"Most, including Clyde," Lane admitted.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Dr. Tommy Merlyn eyed his newest duo and sighed inwardly. Neither wanted to be here, which made his job harder as first he had to convince them that therapy would work before he could actually help them. Today, they'd barely contributed to the discussion. That needed to change.

"Dinah, Laurel, is there anything you'd like to add to the dialogue?"

"Nah, I'm good," Dinah answered with a careless shrug. Laurel gave him a cool look.

"I'm sensing some tension between the two of you, would you like to discuss that?"

"Tension?" Dinah played clueless, giving her partner a wide-eyed look. Laurel kept her focus on Tommy and a small frown graced her lips. "That wasn't a suggestion we get to pass on."

Tommy offered the hint of a smile for Laurel's deduction but quietly waited them out. As expected, Dinah caved first.

"It's our case. We have a viable suspect, but she wants to go over the evidence with a fine-tooth comb before we haul him in."

"All we have is circumstantial evidence. None of which would stand up in court," Laurel clarified. The detectives faced him and the group, barely glancing at each other as they made their arguments.

"Well, it's a good thing we're cops and not a court," Dinah huffed; "We have the drugs and an argument, both of which point to motive. Plus, our suspect had access to the van and the means to pull of the murder. That's all we need to arrest him and grill him for answers."

"We don't have the murder weapon and the motive is debatable. The father said they were close."

"Sometimes the ones we're closest to piss us off the most. You said so yourself," Dinah retorted and extended her chin in Laurel's direction.

"You're taking that out of context!" Laurel snapped. She shifted in her seat to glower at her partner.

"Detectives, why don't we take a deep breath? Let's talk through this, not argue. Dinah, why do you think this suspect is guilty?" Tommy interrupted them and redirected their focus to him.

"It's not about guilt. What we know about the case points to this suspect. We have to follow the evidence, push him for answers if we're going to get the facts of what happened to our victim. We can't go easy because we feel bad for the suspect. We have our jobs to do," Dinah answered him. Calmer.

"All the patients and employees had access to that van. We still don't know where the victim was killed. If we're wrong, the lawyer will shut us down and we'll likely lose our best source of information," Laurel countered, back to her unruffled logic.

Dinah snorted. "This isn't Peter Declan."

"This isn't about him," Laurel denied, splotches of anger on her cheeks.

"Isn't it always with you?" Dinah questioned harshly.

"Who's Peter Declan?" Thea asked for the group.

"No one," Laurel snapped.

"He's the reason Laurel became a cop," Dinah answered.

"He was innocent. If the detectives on his case had done their due diligence, they would've realized it. I became a cop to make sure cases like his don't go trial," Laurel gritted her teeth and explained.

She clammed up after that and Dinah did to, but it was the first piece of real information about herself that she'd voluntarily given the group. Tommy decided to count that as a win. The detectives were still in disagreement over how to handle their suspect when they left, but the tension between them had been cut now that they'd aired their sides. They appeared ready to come to a compromise, but they wouldn't accept his help in doing so.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Laurel and Dinah observed Mark Mardon through the one-way mirror. His lawyer sat next to him and wasn't particularly happy that he and his client had been kept waiting for a quarter of an hour. Mark, on the other hand, was as cool as a cucumber. The detectives shared a look, to check that the other had noticed this unusual behavior, but neither was quite certain what to make of it.

They entered the room; Laurel first with a thin folder. "Hello, Mark, Counselor. I'm Detective Lance and this is my partner, Detective Drake." She took a seat in front of Mark while Dinah remained standing, leaning against one of the walls.

"You have our condolences on your loss."

"Thank you," Mark ducked his head. There was a flicker of pain, but quickly repressed.

"We have some basic questions. Were you and your brother close?" Laurel opened.

"Yes. I admired Clyde, we were each other's best friend growing up. I loved my brother dearly and I'll do anything to help you catch his killer."

"Did you know your brother was dealing drugs at his rehab center?" Laurel asked.

"No," Mark shook his head in denial; "Clyde was serious about getting clean, he wouldn't have."

"Witnesses heard you and your brother having an argument not long before his death," Dinah mentioned with an unfriendly stare for Mark.

Mark opened his mouth to angrily deny the accusation, but his lawyer cut him off. "My client will neither confirm nor deny such a disagreement, Detective." Laurel cast a stinging glare in Dinah's direction for jumping the gun so early.

"Where were you, Mark, at the time of the murder?"

"At school," Mark answered grumpily after getting the okay from his lawyer.

"That's a lie," Dinah scoffed. They'd checked. "Want to try that again?" Mardon looked to his counsel for advice.

"My client has given you an answer. If you don't believe him, then it's on you to prove otherwise. If you have nothing else, then this _interrogation_ is over."

"Why would Clyde call a Big Belly Burger?" Laurel inquired as Mark and his lawyer rose to leave.

"What do you mean?" Mark's brow furrowed.

"The last number your brother dialed was for a Big Belly Burger, he placed that call right before his death. Do you have any idea why?"

"It wasn't a call, it's a message," Mark leaned eagerly towards Laurel until his lawyer pulled him back a couple inches; "Clyde and I, we developed a code to leave clues for the other as a part of an old game. The first three digits are a reference number. The next three give you the author's last name, we based the system off those old-fashioned flip phones. The last four are part of the title."

"You expect us to believe your brother's last act was to leave a clue for a silly old game?" Dinah's tone dripped disbelief. "You know what I think? You're a chemistry major and your brother's a drug addict. I think you used your smarts and his connections to start your own drug operation, make a quick buck. But your brother probably liked to sample the goods. Got hooked on your own stuff and that's bad for business. Then he got sober and wanted out, but you didn't. He threatened to go to the cops, you snapped. You murdered him. Your own brother."

"No, never. You're just making up lies now," Mark snapped before his lawyer could pull him from the room. He wasn't wrong. Dinah was making up parts the story as she went along, trying to get a rise out of Mardon, and it worked.

"Are you happy?" Laurel asked her partner once they were alone in the room. Mardon's lawyer had made sure to express his displeasure with their tactics before he left.

"You know I'm not."

Mark may have been their best insight into Clyde and now they wouldn't be able to touch him without his lawyer getting in the way. Worse, they hadn't learned anything new that might clear Mark's name or condemn him.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Dinah and Laurel stood in a conference room. The television on the opposite wall played a segment from the news. Kara Danvers was front and center as she bombarded Mark Mardon with questions about his brother's murder as he tried to get behind the protective gates of his father's home. "Did you kill your brother, Mark?" Kara shouted above the rest. "No!" Mark cried as his lawyer shoved him forward, before he could say any more. The footage jumped back to Kara as she stood outside the Mardon home, wearing her serious-reporter face as she recapped the breaking news of Clyde's murder and the police's suspicions.

The screen went black as DA Palmer set down the remote and frowned at the detectives and Captain Diggle. "This is a disaster, exactly what I didn't want to happen. You assured me, captain, that they were the best for the job, but current evidence suggests otherwise – Joshua Mardon is a powerful man and he isn't pleased. Neither am I."

"We didn't leak this, Ray," Laurel interjected. She'd worked with Ray before becoming a cop, so she was comfortable addressing him on a personal level.

"We'd never compromise an op like this," Dinah agreed.

"I don't care who leaked the story. What I want is an arrest to put this to bed and the two of you can't even agree on a suspect. I want them off the case, John."

"Now, now. Why don't we discuss this is my office? I'm sure we can come to an understanding," Diggle guided the DA out of the conference room, trying to calm down the irate man.

"Tell me for real, did you leak this to the press to force us to back off Mardon?" Dinah rounded on her partner once the men were out of earshot.

"Me? Of course not. I'm not the one who called this case an op. What's that supposed to mean?"

"Op, case. It doesn't matter. I had no motive to go to the press."

"Right," Laurel scoffed. "You know, for all your talk, you're the one who's truly compromised on this case. There are no innocents when it comes to drugs with you."

"That's right, this is my fault. Always is. Because the great Lance is never wrong. Incorruptible. I gotta say, Oliver lucked out the day you dumped him."

"What Vince saw in you, I'll never get," Laurel shot back.

Dinah saw red. She slapped Laurel. Hard. Laurel retaliated with powerful shove that sent Dinah stumbling into the table.

"Detectives!" Diggle barked from the doorway.

"I see the therapy's working so well," Palmer snarked.

Laurel ripped the case file off the table and shoved it into Palmer's hands. "Give it to Hall and Schott. We're done." Then she marched out of the office without a backwards glare.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Later in the evening, Dinah sat at a bar, nursing her first drink of the night. She'd been there for hours, stewing. The dark aura she cast kept any prowlers away. Even the bartender gave up on her after three tries.

The news was playing again. McKenna and Winn had been quick to make an arrest once they took over the case. Right now, Mark Mardon was sitting in jail for his brother's murder and the press was having a field day. Kara Danvers was all smiles as she interviewed Winn Schott. Dinah was surprised it wasn't Hall on the little screen, she and Danvers were friends outside of work after all – and suddenly the leak made perfect sense. Dinah cursed Hall and herself under her breath.

"Is this seat taken?" Dr. Merlyn sidled up to Dinah, gesturing to the barstool next to her. "If you like," she shrugged. "I'll take a bourbon on the rocks," Tommy ordered with a polite smile for his companion.

"The captain sent you, didn't he? Well, you're wasting your time. I'm not looking to talk. I'm fine with breaking up with Laurel. Glad, actually."

"Who are you trying to convince?" Tommy retorted. "I find it hard to believe that either of you is okay with this. Not when you once took a bullet to save her life. And she disobeyed orders to run into a burning building to find you."

"People change."

"True, but not in this case. What really hurt? That she used Vince against you? Or that she didn't trust you?"

"Vince hurt, but I half-expected her to bring him up. After all, I brought up Oliver first," Dinah admitted regretfully; "Her lack of trust, that cut deeper, because I used to have it."

"Then rebuild it. Show her you want to be partners again. I know Laurel wants it too."

"Oh? Was I your second stop tonight?" Dinah shifted back to her cockier attitude. Tommy didn't comment, knowing he'd gotten through to her.

"You were my first – I knew you'd be alone, drinking. More open to a discussion."

"They're not fooling you either, huh? Do you have any advice?"

"They need to figure their relationship out on their own. You need to just be her partner, not her matchmaker. You're like sisters. Close sisters. In my experience, though siblings may squabble, when the bond is strong, no argument matters in the long run. Because when it counts, you'll have each other's back."

"Arguments, of course," Dinah smirked, a realization coming to her. "Thank you, doc."

The detective dropped a twenty, clapped Tommy on the shoulder, and left the bar with a determined step.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Laurel rang Oliver's doorbell. Then scanned his neighborhood while she waited. He answered the door a few seconds later. The white shirt he wore sculpted his abs in a way that was entirely unfair. She snapped her eyes back to his face and refused to blush.

"I'm sorry to barge over so late, but can I see Sara?"

"Sure thing," Oliver grinned knowingly at her. He let her pass without another comment and whistled once she was inside.

A golden Labrador ran down the stairs and greeted Laurel with a slobbery kiss. Laurel chortled and gave Sara a good scratch between the ears. Their dog thumped her tail against a lampstand in happiness. After a quick belly rub, Laurel stood up and led Sara to Oliver's backyard. He followed and watched as she played fetch with their three-year-old fur-baby.

"I heard about Dinah. Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly as Sara raced down the yard.

"What's there to say? We're over. Probably for the best. All the stress she caused me was bad for my blood pressure," Laurel shrugged, then wrestled the tennis ball away from Sara.

Oliver chuckled and she smiled, rolling her eyes at her own antics. She'd, unfortunately, picked up a couple of Dinah's bad habits over the years.

"You know, things weren't always so difficult between you two. I recall you mentioning on more than one occasion how she pushed you to be a better detective. She helps you think outside the box and loves to get justice as much as you do. You trusted her with everything once, like a sister."

"Yeah, well, sometimes bonds break, and they can't be fixed," Laurel muttered darkly, but her expression was pained.

There was a pregnant pause between them as he sought to find some words of advice for her. Laurel tossed the ball for Sara again.

"Do you have to keep dating my colleagues?" the words slipped out before she could stop them. Laurel winced, hating herself for giving into the need to know. Oliver had always had a way of getting under her skin, even better than Dinah did.

"Excuse me?"

"Dumb doesn't suit you, Ollie. McKenna is the third woman from my precinct you've dated in the last two years. Can't you find someone else to make-out with in a corridor that isn't where I work?"

"This is a free country, Laurel. If I find a woman with a badge attractive, I'll date her, regardless of where she works."

"Oh, so if I dated some of the men from your office, you'd be okay with that?"

"Yes," Oliver ground out.

"Liar."

"What do you want me to say, Laurel? I'll be pissed and jealous if you date anyone who isn't me. You told me to move on and I've tried, but I still love you and I want you in my life, however much of you I can get."

"Oliver, stop."

"That's right. Push me away because you're scared. Because you don't want me to end up hurt. Well, I am hurting, Laurel, and I'm getting sick and tired of this game we're playing. Why can't you let yourself be happy with me? Would it really be so bad?"

Sara whined at their feet. Laurel knelt to pet her, refusing to make eye contact with Oliver or answer him. She'd already said too much as it was. He huffed at her typical response and reentered his house, leaving her on the back porch. Laurel picked up the ball and gave it another toss. She forced her mind away from Oliver and her ever-present feelings for him and returned to the case.

She'd gone to a public library before her visit and investigated the clue Clyde had left his brother. The numbers had led to book on notorious female criminals in the last century. She'd skimmed through the table of contents and a couple chapters, not grasping the message Clyde had been trying to send. She suspected Mark would've known the answer instantly, but there was no chance she'd get to ask him any time soon.

If not for that argument Shawna had overheard, they probably wouldn't have focused on Mark so early in the investigation.

Laurel paused as she reached the tennis ball at her feet. Her mind flipped back to the book. There had been one chapter on Griselda Blanco Restrepo, a drug lord with an estimated body count of over 200. Sara whoofed and nudged Laurel's knee with her nose. Laurel scooped up the ball and pitched it towards the very back of Oliver's yard.

Shawna had been the one to tell them about the argument, which Mark had never confirmed had happened. Shawna had been quick to insert herself into the investigation. Very helpful in giving them answers that pointed towards Clyde and Mark being in on the drug business together. Laurel whipped out her phone and after a pause, she speed-dialed Dinah.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

"Okay, what am I looking for exactly?" Cisco asked as he hauled his kit through the Rogues' center.

"Anything that might point to Shawna having killed Clyde here or moved his body," Dinah explained.

"Shawna Baez, you mean that cute babe Hall and Schott brought in to fill out a witness statement?" Cisco looked shocked.

"She was the only one who heard the supposed argument between Mark and Clyde," Dinah pointed out; "She was also hanging around when one of the patients here admitted to buying drugs off Clyde."

"He was a bit of a twitchy fellow, but we assumed it was because he'd been caught and didn't want to be kicked out. Lane confirmed Baez has a close relationship with the relapsed addict and she'd been cozying up to Clyde recently. She also has a history of selling drugs, not taking them," Laurel added as she and Dinah snapped on gloves before opening the door to Shawna's suite.

"Do you have a warrant for me to search her suite?" Cisco wondered.

"No, but Lane has given you permission to check the grounds around her suite for any evidence. He also granted us permission to search her rooms for drugs, a right she waived when she entered rehab," Laurel reassured him.

The detectives entered the suite while Cisco started searching the areas directly around the path that led to Shawna's place. There was nothing suspicious at a glance in the room, though Dinah noted that Shawna's aquarium appeared to have been recently disturbed. The women split up and searched the suite from top to bottom and checked all the usual and unusual places one might hide drugs. They came up with squat until Dinah returned to the aquarium. On a hunch, she pulled back her sleeve and went fishing at the bottom of the tank. She found a false bottom and underneath, drugs.

"Detectives, I've got blood and some fibers," Cisco called into the room.

Laurel and Dinah shared a satisfied grin. They'd found their killer.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

"So, it was the friend at rehab after all?" Jefferson asked.

"They weren't really friends. Mark told us that Clyde said she only got close to him to see if he'd buy drugs off her," Laurel explained.

"He tried to turn her into Lane, but Lane refused to believe his treatment wasn't working for her. So, Clyde tried to get proof on his own," Dinah added.

"Mark was against the plan. He'd met Shawna a couple of times and she'd flirted with him. He'd developed a bit of a crush on her and refused to believe Clyde's story. That was what they'd argued about. He blamed himself for Clyde's death, because he didn't help his brother," Laurel finished summarizing their victory.

"Did she confess?" Iris wanted to know.

"No. Doesn't matter, we've got enough evidence that she'll be going away a long time," Dinah crowed.

"As happy as I am that you caught the killer and seen to be in a more congenial mood, the case isn't the focus of our conversation today," Tommy interrupted the conversation to get it back on point. "Would you like to discuss how other relationships might affect your partnership?"

"Ours is a professional, working relationship. Other relationships aren't really a factor," Laurel was quick to deny.

"What about this Oliver, your ex?" Thea pointed out.

"There's nothing to say. We aren't in a relationship anymore."

"Riiight," Dinah drawled. "If you won't say anything, I'm more than happy to share the dirty details."

"I don't think that's necessary," Dr. Merlyn shot Dinah an unamused look.

"It's fine. If Dinah wants to talk about Oliver, we can, but only if I get share about Vince after her," Laurel shrugged and shot her partner a smug look. Dinah scowled.

"Who's Vince? Your ex?" Barry looked at Dinah.

"What kind of relationships did you have in mind, doc?" Dinah looked to Tommy, pretending she hadn't heard Barry's question.

"Why don't we start with your other coworkers?" Tommy accepted the segue.

He did make a mental note to circle back to Vince later. There was something about that name that rang a bell, he'd thought so when the captain had first brought the name up, but now he was certain. He needed to do a little research first.

Arrow-Arrow-Arrow

Dinah waved goodbye to the other couples as she and Laurel headed for the latter's car. They had the rest of the evening off since they wrapped up the Mardon case and Dinah was planning to grill herself a steak in celebration.

"Hey, I'm not picking up Sara until tomorrow. You up for a girls' night out?"

"Sure, why not? Just promise me we won't end up at one of those parties your uptight lawyer friends like the throw."

"I was thinking a bar or a club. I'll be sure to let Ollie know you think he's uptight," Laurel teased at the last part.

"Have you told him about Hall leaking the story to Danvers?"

"No – if I did, I'd just come off as the jealous ex."

"Which you are," Dinah mentioned lightly. Laurel refused to respond. "I'll tell him if you don't."

"Please, don't. I just want him to be happy," Laurel sighed as she unlocked her car.

"What about you? Don't you want to be happy?"

"I'd say the same applies to you," Laurel retorted.

"I'm not ready to move on, not yet," Dinah answered to truthfully. She couldn't move on, not until Vinny's killers were brought to justice, and Laurel understood this.

"What do you say we hit the shooting range first?"

"You mean so I can prove my superiority as a shooter over you? Why not," Dinah smirked, though not as cockily as she normally would.

"As if," Laurel scoffed.

"Challenge accepted."

The End


	5. Differences Desired

D_isclaimers of previous chapters still in effect._

* * *

Differences Desired

In the Glades, not far from a former Queen factory, the new Black Canary patrolled. As she approached yet another warehouse she glanced around carefully. Spotting no witnesses, she ducked into the warehouse. Nearly ten minutes later, beneath the club once called _Verdant_, Black Canary stepped into a shallow ring of light. She wasn't alone.

"Have any trouble finding this place?" she asked her companions. Wild Dog replied with a simple negative, but Mr. Terrific had more to say: "No. Well, actually, a bit. I had to crawl through this like really dark alley that reeked of burnt eggs meets urine, except it wasn't burnt eggs –"

A throat clearing interrupted Mr. Terrific. Then Green Arrow, Spartan, and Overwatch stepped into the circle of light. For a tense moment the former teammates stared at one and other.

"I trust you all enacted the precautions I suggested on your way here," Oliver asked rhetorically and held up a hand to forestall a long-winded answer from Curtis.

"Did it work?" Rene headed straight to the punch. He was rewarded with a miffed glare from Oliver and then a small, victorious grin.

"It worked Rene. According to our mole, Cayden James bought our act hook, line, and sinker. As far as he and his allies are concerned our team has split down the middle."

"So, what do we do now?" Curtis wanted to know.

"Well, Cayden James is going to continue monitoring the three of us through his camera, believing he's five steps ahead. We'll give him exactly the show he's expecting, freeing the three of you to undermine his operations with the intel our mole provides," Felicity explained with a satisfied smile; "And to help you out, I've made some upgrades to the Foundry."

Felicity raised the lights using the tablet she carried. The Foundry brightened to reveal a set up more sophisticated than when Oliver began as the Hood, but still minimalistic compared to the Bunker. Three tables surrounded the vigilantes. One table served as a mostly sterile med bed with a well-stocked cabinet beneath it. The second table held the tools Canary, Wild Dog, and Terrific would need to clean, maintain, and repair the gear and gadgets they used in the field. Behind that table stood three empty mannequins. The final table held a secure computer, another laptop and tablet, and a police scanner. A training mat and salmon ladder sat in a far corner.

It was the kind of set up a team of experienced vigilantes might have if they lacked serious funding. Or what might've been a beta site. The only thing that belied that image was the security measures the older team members had put in place in preparation for this new mission – from discreetly hidden proximity monitors, to three secret entrances, and reinforced walls and ceilings.

"As best our mole can tell, the Foundry isn't on James's radar, so feel free to use it as your base of operations or as a back up to wherever you feel more comfortable. I trust you to do what is best for your team," Oliver said as Curtis, Rene, and Dinah checked out the base.

"And in case the Foundry is compromised, the computers can be scrubbed remotely, and the essentials removed in under five minutes," Felicity added; "I also took the liberty of arranging an alert system between our bases if we ever need to communicate directly after this. You plug in the address of where you want to meet and how urgent. So, if you need to meet immediately at say Seventh and Concord, we'll get a message about a possible sighting of Vigilante in that area on a private security camera. Something we monitor that the police can't, which should keep Cayden James from growing suspicious."

"Will we get a similar alert if you need to talk to us?" Dinah inquired as she joined Curtis at the computers to check out the program. After Felicity gave an affirmative, Dinah smiled in approval; "So, is it safe to ask how Lyla took your little B&E at ARGUS?"

"She took a some convincing," Diggle replied with an uncomfortable rub at the back of his head; "Once I swore that we'd never turn over a working prototype, she agreed to let us break in. Even used it her own advantage."

"Really, how so?" Oliver looked to John in interest.

"For starters, she switched up the rotations of several the guards, then used our successful theft as grounds for firing majority of them. Most of those sacked were ardent supporters of Amanda Waller and they hadn't taken kindly to the changes Lyla's been implementing. The rest she suspected, or knew, to be double agents and just couldn't get the hard proof she needed to terminate until we presented her the opportunity. She's also having ARGUS's security protocols reviewed with the intention of shoring up the weak spots we exploited to get in."

"Your wife cleaned house, used us to test her security systems, and helped pull the wool over Cayden James's eyes all in half a night. I'm impressed," Rene whistled and Dig smirked.

"Talking of impressed, look at this intel the mole's provided," Curtis said as he scrolled through the data Felicity had set up to upload to their secured computer only; "If I'm not mistaken, this type of information could only have come from someone in James's inner circle. Am I right or am I right?"

"Nice try Curtis, but no, I'm not going to give up the identity of our mole just yet," Oliver replied stoically; "The mole trusts that I won't pull my punches in a fight, but isn't so sure of the rest of you. If our mole is going to keep feeding us information, I need to keep their trust, which means I can't tell you anything more until they tell me too. Just trust me for now and when the time is right, I'll tell all of you, everything."

"We're here ain't we, Hoss. We trust you," Rene pointed out.

"You're right and I'm thankful to have each and everyone of you guarding my back. But I'm especially grateful to you, Rene. I know I put you in the hot seat with Agent Watson. I promise as soon as we stop James, we'll get her off your back and make sure those threats she made against your daughter never come true. Family comes first and all of you are my family now."

* * *

**A/N:** I originally wrote this up after the midseason finale in S6. Didn't post because I the direction the show chose to go made this non-compliant real quick. In my initial write up the mole was either Anatoly or Black Siren (I had a tentative explanation for the people they killed not actually being dead). Now though, I think I would've made Diaz the mole and playing both sides until he was ready to take over. Anyway, this is just more of what I'd wished they done, but not a story line I felt like fleshing out. It's also my first attempt at a tag. Reviews are appreciated.


	6. Me & You, Forever

_Disclaimer: see part one._

For **Only reviewer** who asked for a gender swapped TVD. I didn't just stop at Elena/Oliver and Sara/Stefan, Laurel/Damon though . . .

* * *

Me & You, Forever

Lyla sat in her home office diligently working her way through term essays as night fell. She had a lamp on behind her and her shades shuttered but not completely closed. Her phone buzzed, a welcome distraction, and her smile only grew when she saw the id.

"Let me guess, you've decided to ditch work to save me from run-on sentences and dangling participles," she teased in greeting.

"As much as I'd love to be your knight in green scrubs, I'm afraid Mrs. Stein's case of the incurable hiccups is going to keep me busy until the end of my shift," John grinned on the other end of the line.

"Oh? So, were you calling to make me jealous then? Because I'm fairly certain I'd rather being dealing with some hiccups right now than these papers."

"Actually, I was calling because I just realized this is the last shift I'm going to work as a single man."

"Getting cold feet? Because now would be the time to run for the hills," Lyla joked. He laughed. "Not gonna happen – you're stuck with me, woman. I love you and am excited beyond belief to marry you."

"I love you too and can't wait for this weekend either."

They probably would've kept on talking, except John was called away to check on a patient. After a final exchange of love-yous, they hung up, and Lyla returned to her work with a sigh. A while later, she heard her doorbell ring. Glancing at the clock and noting the late hour, she wondered who would be calling on her now. She doubted it was something supernatural looking for mischief, those sorts wouldn't bother with doorbells. Still, to be on the safe side, she slipped a small silver dagger into the back of her jeans. Then she went to answer the door.

Over at the hospital, Diggle walked into the room a nurse had directed him to, only to find the bed empty and no sign of a patient having been there. He turned around, to find the nurse gone, and stepped back into a vacant hall, wondering what was going on. Heading back to the nearest nurses' station, John didn't see the bag coming until it was too late, and a pair of strong arms were wrapped around him.

Lyla answered her front door to find a man in uniform waiting for her. "May we speak in private, miss," the officer said, and Lyla stepped back in silent invitation. The man entered without an invite, which at least ruled him out as a vampire. "Is something wrong, officer?"

"It's my understanding, that you're engaged to Doctor John Diggle," the young, well-sculpted man mentioned as his hands went towards his belt.

"Yes, has something happened?" she felt dread beginning to squeeze her heart. It hadn't been more than a half an hour since they spoke, but in this town less time was needed for a tragedy to occur.

"Nothing's wrong, nothing at all," the man said a second before he ripped off his shirt.

Music boomed behind Lyla and she jumped as Laurel and Sara appeared beside her in glitter and beads. "Bachelorette party!" the sisters cried, and the fake police officer began to dance. Dozens of other partygoers streamed into Lyla's house through the open front door and Lyla laughed in relief. As she let Laurel slip a silly pink crown onto her head, a real smile blossomed, and the celebration began.

In a different location, the bag over John's head was ripped off. He found himself sitting in a chair in an empty bar. Oliver and Roy stood before him and raised two beers in toast. "To your stag night!"

"You two," John shook his finger threateningly and huffed, but the grin breaking out on his face said they were forgiven. They handed him a beer and the three clinked glasses, ready to drink the night away.

ARROW* (The Vampire Journals of Oliver Queen) *ARROW

Felicity found Nyssa at the beverage table that the catering staff had set up. She was opening the lid to the beer cooler, one handed, because her right arm still rested in a sling. For a moment, Felicity felt the tiniest flicker of regret, then she roughly shoved the feeling aside – Nyssa should've known better.

"You know, I'm fairly certain alcohol and pain meds don't mix well," she said instead.

"Maybe I've decided to take a page out of your playbook and make the worst of a bad situation," Nyssa retorted. She struggled for a minute with how to remove the cap with only one good hand. Then she smacked the lip of the bottle against the edge of Lyla's kitchen counter and viola, the cap popped off. Felicity stepped back, having been about to offer to help.

"Ah, I thought I smelled something depressing, should've known it was the two of you," Joanna de la Vega mocked as she slipped into the kitchen and made her way to the cooler.

"What are you doing here?" Felicity regarded the wily vampire warily. Nyssa did as well, both shifting to keep Jo in front of them at all times.

"Laurel invited me," Jo shrugged, not at all put off by their open hostility. "Personally, I don't really see the point of this bachelorette party, but I never say no to free alcohol."

Nyssa and Felicity traded a look, considering the best way they could handle this unwelcome guest. Before they could formulate a plan, a man in a tight white shirt strolled in to get a beer. Jo eyed him appreciatively. "Hello, Handsome," she purred, and he flashed her flirtatious smile. The two of them left together and Nyssa and Felicity shared another look – hopefully that would be the last they saw of Joanna tonight.

Back in the bar, the guys were playing darts and Oliver was unsurprisingly winning, not that the other two really cared. Oliver had two major advantages after all – he was a vampire, and not nearly as drunk as Diggle and Roy.

"Twins, I can't believe you'n'Lyla are having twins," Roy said in amazement, half hanging off John.

"You don't seem all that excited," Oliver noted as he tossed his last dart to the side to help John carry Roy back to their table. They took away the witch's beer and gave him some fries to eat instead.

"I am happy, but I'm also concerned. Lyla doesn't think I should be, not now that my family's decided to cut ties with me, but I know them. They'll find out, and they'll try and take the twins from us – but that's not a problem for tonight. Tonight, is about celebrating the end to my bachelor days and the start of something even better."

"You're right, and you know what would make this party so much better?" Oliver asked.

"You'd better not say a stripper, I told you I don't want one."

"A stripper would be fun, but I respect your wishes on the matter," Oliver held up his hands in surrender, then nodded towards the old jukebox in the bar; "I was talking music."

"Not a bad idea," John agreed, eying the machine.

"Any requests?"

"Why don't you stay here, I'll pick the playlist," John replied, already up and moving.

"It's like you don't trust me," Oliver quipped with a fake-wounded expression. John laughed in agreement.

"So, you wanna talk about last night?" Roy asked, sitting up, a little more sober.

"Nothing happened last night," Oliver denied immediately.

"That's not what Laurel said."

"Since when do you two talk?" Oliver deflected.

"She needed someone to vent to after you left her hanging – seriously, I can't believe she offered to take the cure with you and you just rabbited like that."

"I did not rabbit."

"And I quote "he looked at me like I had two heads, then practically teleported out of the room"," Roy countered Oliver's affronted look with one of mild exasperation.

"It's a big deal, I just, needed some time to think."

Roy's response was temporarily cut off as a song burst out of the speakers. It was an older song that neither of them recognized, but John was already dancing to it. The witch and vampire shared a look, then broke into sniggers as John shuffled his way back to the table with some rather questionable dance moves.

Music was still blaring at Lyla's house as she interrogated Laurel about the cure, a milkshake in hand. "I can't believe you offered to take the cure with Oliver," she said, eyes wide.

"Why is that so hard to believe? I love him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him, however boring and mortal that may be."

"But you love being a vampire."

"I love Oliver more," Laurel replied, but a momentary frown slid across her face and Lyla caught it.

"You know what I think?"

"I have a feeling I'm going to find out," Laurel commented dryly.

"I think you're afraid of losing Oliver, when he becomes human again, so you're making promises you're not ready to keep and now you're getting cold feet."

"I offered to take the cure with him, not marry him," Laurel tried to walk away from the conversation, but Lyla hounded her.

"You kinda did, but that's not my point. Say you go through with this, Oliver takes the cure and becomes human again, what would happen then?" Lyla pushed, already knowing the answer, but Laurel humored her anyway.

"I'd feed off him, become human too. And so long as no one drained the cure out of me, I'd be able to live a human life with Ollie, where we'll both probably die of the sniffles."

"And you'll never be able to become a vampire again."

"You're acting like I haven't thought this through, I have. You're the one about to get married, to give up your life of singledom and freedom for one man. Are you telling me there won't be things you'll miss? Of course, there will, but what you'll gain in return will make it worth the trade." Laurel had her there.

"What does Sara think of all this?" Lyla was ready to give up the fight, then she saw how Laurel blanched at the question. "She doesn't know, does she?"

"She has enough on her plate at the moment. I will tell her, eventually," Laurel shrugged like it was no big deal, but they both knew that was a lie.

ARROW* (The Vampire Journals of Oliver Queen) *ARROW

Sara had crept upstairs to Lyla's guest bedroom. She wanted a few minutes to herself. Needed a few to refocus before she returned to the party and being happy for her friends. Unbidden, her hand tugged out her phone and dialed a familiar number before Sara could stop herself. It went to voicemail.

"_**Hey, this is Tommy. I can't answer the phone right now, but you know what to do**_."

"Hi Tommy, it's me. Sara. I really wish you'd pick up right now. I could use you here with me. There's so much that's been going on lately. The wedding, our battle with the Darhk. My father. . . I've been avoiding him lately, which has been kind of tricky to do since Laurel let him stay in our house. I wish I could just escape everything for a bit, like the way you are. I hope, wherever you are, you're happy. And when you get this, please call me."

"For a supposedly happy celebration, this party is filled with a lot of miserable people," Jo snarked from the doorway.

Sara shifted on the bed to glare at the intruder. "What do you want?"

"I'm here about your father, actually. He's in a bad place right now and could use your help," Joanna replied, perhaps the sincerest Sara had seen of her in a while.

"Why would you care about my father?"

"There are a lot of things about me you don't know, about your father as well," Jo replied cryptically.

Meanwhile, Quentin Lance sat in a café, restlessly tapping his fingers on the countertop. A barista brought his order with a smile, Quentin barely offered her one in return as he spotted the pulse in her throat. The barista moved away, on her way out as her shift had ended minutes earlier. Quentin's fingers picked up their staccato as he fought the impulse to hunt her down and drain her dry.

He lost.

He barely managed to leave the café at human speed. Once outside it was as easy as breathing to pick up her scent. He stalked after her, drawing closer and closer with each block. He could hear the blood pulsing calmly in her veins. Could practically taste that sweet coppery taste on his tongue . . .

He could feel his vampiric face beginning to form and he didn't fight it. She rounded a corner onto a darker street. Quentin took two swift strides forward, ready to pounce. "Dad?" Sara stepped in front of him, forcing him to an immediate hard-stop. Quentin repressed his basic urges, wanting to cry as he scented his prey getting farther and farther away.

"So, what was is so important you had to interrupt my walk?" Quentin gruffed a few minutes later as he and Sara sat at a table in the café he'd vacated not that long ago.

"That didn't look like a leisurely walk to me," Sara retorted; hard but not unkind.

"What do you want Sara?" Quentin hunched his shoulders defeatedly; "If this is some sort of father-daughter bonding experiment, to see if I still care about you, let me save you the time."

"Oh, I'm quite aware of how you feel about me. The web of lies you spun to snap my humanity back in me showed me the truth more vividly than anything you can say now."

"Then why are you here?"

"While you may want nothing to do with me, you're still my father. And since you failed to raise the Darhk, I thought you might need someone to talk to, someone who can understand what is your going through," Sara left out the part where Jo had all but begged her to stop Quentin before he caused any more upset.

"Really? You think you can relate to how I feel?" Quentin scoffed. "Have you ever lost everyone you love and care about not once, but twice. Just like that," he snapped his fingers with a derisive snarl for his daughter. "We have nothing to talk about."

"You're a Ripper. Losing the people that you care most about, must have pushed you to the edge. That's a cliff I know all too well, since you passed the Ripper gene onto me," Sara countered, keeping her cool. Not letting Quentin see how much his words were digging in.

"I've got everything under control," Quentin said. Sara merely glanced at his tapping fingers. Quentin stalled and shot her a defiant look.

"You know, when my hunger sets in, it always starts in the back of my throat. Saliva builds up and the taste of the scents become a feast to my palate. My veins start to twitch, they feel as if they're singing, starving for fresh blood. The world – the sights, the sounds, the people – all fall away until only the pulsing of hot, untapped blood remains. And all that matters is sating the beast inside," Sara slammed her open palm onto the edge of the table at the end of her hypnotic speech. The force jolted Quentin out of the stupor he'd entered. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

ARROW* (The Vampire Journals of Oliver Queen) *ARROW

Nyssa had found herself a nice bottle of bourbon hidden in Lyla's pantry. She knew it was bad decorum, but she took the bottle anyway. She was working on the lid when Felicity tracked her down again.

"You know, mixing alcohols, really not a good idea."

"You would know, being the expert of bad choices that you are," Nyssa replied coolly.

"Hey, I'm just trying to look out for you," Felicity held up her hands placatingly. Nyssa rolled her eyes. "Really. Tell me, how's deputy training going, Smoak?"

"Well, Deputy Raatko has finally stopped calling me Maggot, so there's that," Felicity replied tartly.

"I imagine that has something to do with Deputy Raatko being on medical leave the last two weeks."

"One might say she had it coming," Felicity shrugged unapologetically, getting a little angry now.

"Had it coming?" Nyssa slammed the bourbon onto the counter. The glass rattled but didn't break. "You didn't have to beat me up in front of the rest of the recruits! Gah – I don't get you Felicity, you finally have a chance to make something with your life and you're tossing it away because the work isn't what you thought it would be."

"It's not the work, Nyssa," Felicity snapped. "It occurred to me, that while I might be good at this job, there will likely come a day when I'll have to shoot someone. When I might _kill_ a human - and I don't ever want to be a werewolf again."

"It doesn't have to come to that, not if you learn some control," Nyssa disagreed. Ready to fight for Felicity, even if that meant fighting with her friend.

"You say it like it's that simple," Felicity rolled her eyes this time. Irritation sparked in her blood.

"It is."

"It's not."

"It _is_. If you would just control yourself," Nyssa pushed Felicity back a step with her good arm.

Felicity's anger snarled and she shoved Nyssa with both hands, sending her friend stumbling. Felicity followed with an aggressive stance as Nyssa caught herself on the counter and stayed upright. She found Felicity's fist poised to punch her face while the de-powered werewolf breathed heavily. After a moment, Felicity dropped her hand. "See," she said, then stalked away.

In another part of the house, Laurel listened to the situation and decided her friends had de-escalated on their own. That settled, she speed-dialed the next problem on her list and started talking the moment Sara picked up.

"You'd better be the one who absconded with the stripper or I'm going to be very disappointed."

"Good thing you're used to handling disappointment then, because whatever situation you wish I was in right now, picture the opposite," Sara replied, and Laurel could practically hear her sister's eye roll. "I'm with Dad."

"Why on Earth would you be subjecting yourself to more time with him than is necessary?" oh, Laurel may have agreed to let Quentin live with her at the Lance boardinghouse, but that was to keep an eye on him, not out of any familial affection.

"I'm trying to reel him back from going full-on Ripper now that his plan to raise the Darhk has failed. Did you know that Quentin was the one who turned Jo?"

"No, don't think you'll be able to change the subject on me like that. If Quentin is teetering, we should lock him up."

"I will, if it comes to that, I promise. Just give me a little time to get through to him first."

"Fine," Laurel puffed after a thoughtful pause; "You have until this bachelorette party is over. Then I'm hunting you both down if I have to."

"Deal," now she could hear Sara's victorious smirk; "Is there anything else you want to talk about?" Laurel didn't answer, for a moment she considered telling Sara right then and there about the cure and Oliver. Yet she couldn't bring herself to do it. "Send Pops my love," Laurel quipped instead, then chuckled darkly. Sara hung up without a goodbye, not that either of them bothered with such sentiments anymore. They knew how much the other meant to them.

"Now I believe, that is what they call, a missed opportunity," Joanna noted, skulking in a nearby corner.

"A missed opportunity for what?" Laurel played dumb.

"There's no need for that, I know all about your plan to trade in your fangs for a minivan and the American white picket fence," Jo drawled.

"How?"

"Oh, I bribed Lyla with trans fats until she caved and told me everything."

"I suppose you've come to give me your two-cents on why I shouldn't or how I'm getting cold feet," Laurel regarded her on-again, off-again friend warily.

"What's the point? You're not going to go through with it – you're too selfish to."

"You don't know that," Laurel refuted.

"Of course I do. Consistency is trait we still share with our mortal counterparts and your self-preservation instincts are so hardwired into you, you left me to die in an inferno, despite our friendship."

With that sobering thought, Joanna left Laurel to her musings. More troubled than she cared to admit, Laurel peered into her drink and thought about Oliver and the cure.

Across town, Laurel was just as much on Oliver's mind as he talked with John and Roy about the one subject that he'd been trying to avoid all day and night.

"You're telling me that Laurel gave you the vampire equivalent of a marriage proposal, and you just walked away," John set down his beer in surprise.

"I needed some time to think. What she's offering, it's a big step for both of us. I mean, what if I miss the perks of being a vampire? Being able to compel a bar owner to close so we can have a stag night, being able to heal those I care about."

"Those are just excuses. What you're truly afraid of is becoming human and realizing you don't love Laurel anymore," Roy aimed straight for the heart and found his mark.

"That's a load of bull. Being supernatural doesn't change who you are or how you feel about others. Just look at me and Lyla, an ex-witch and ex-vampire, about to get married and start a family. If you and Laurel truly love each other, it won't matter if you're both human, or only one of you is. What matters is that you hold each other tight and never let go."

"Dig's right. If you want the cure, take it. Do what's right for you, and let Laurel figure out what's right for her on her own time."

"I do want the cure, but I'm not sure how to keep Laurel in the process," Oliver sighed.

"Talking to her helps," Roy pointed out. After a beat, Oliver noticed how intently the other two were staring at him.

"Like now? But, your stag night John," Oliver turned to his friend who waved him off.

"We can drink a few beers another night, when I actually stand a chance of drinking you under the table again. Go get the girl."

Oliver smiled his thanks and sent a quick text to Laurel as he sped out of the bar. **Meet me downtown? At the square. Now?**

A few seconds later, she said she was on her way. Oliver beat her to the square by several minutes. Feeling antsy about the conversation that was to come, he couldn't stay still, and ultimately ended up climbing to the top of the grand clock. He watched Laurel saunter into the square, nibbling her way through a bag of fries. Not spotting him, she called.

"Where are you?"

"Look up," he spoke normally but with her vampiric hearing and centuries of experience she followed his voice easily. He saw the amusement that curled her lips and gave her a short wave. "I see you're indulging in a favorite snack, no milkshake?"

"Not tonight, I'm looking more to eat my feelings," she replied.

"Why?"

"Well, I asked this guy I'm really into a rather important question and he hasn't given me an answer yet."

"What a flake," Oliver played along. "You know, maybe we could talk, try and work through your guy problem together?"

"Why do I get the feeling you're more interested in my fries than my problem?"

"I'm hurt – why don't you come up here and find out?"

ARROW* (The Vampire Journals of Oliver Queen) *ARROW

Sara took a sip of her beer while Quentin tasted the single malt that she'd ordered for him. He guzzled the drink after the first taste, set the empty glass down, and stared sulkily at her. "And what was that supposed to accomplish?"

"We're sublimating your instincts to drain with more socially acceptable habits."

"You're mocking me," Quentin accused.

"I'm not, I swear," Sara answered, looking him in the eye. Quentin dropped his scowl for the moment, gazing about the room. "You can either slack your thirst with alcohol or squirrel blood. Unless you're more a rabbit person? I've hunted rabbits before and let me tell you, the experience is quiet humbling."

"Enough," he smacked the table. "For 150 years I had one goal, one dream. To be reunited with those I loved. That dream is dead now, because of you and your friends. Gone, forever. Can you not leave me to my grief?"

"I wish I could, but your grief causes scenes like last night in the Glades, and that kind of attention is bad for us. Work with me, please, because if you don't Laurel will lock you up before sunrise and throw away the key."

"Yes, that does sound like your sister, but not you. You're here because you want to salvage a relationship with me. You want to be my daughter again, to be a family again. You want to hear that I still love you."

"I'm fairly certain we already covered that this evening," Sara replied coolly. She could see what he was trying to do, an emotional attack meant to cripple her before he lashed out. She knew the signs too well, after all. Her hand slipped below the table, reaching for her back pocket.

"I was your father once. I loved and raised you. You and your sister. I was also a cripple, mocked by the town, verbally abused by my own wife. I was pathetic. Then that man died, and I was reborn, more powerful and whole than ever before. I found a new family to love, who accepted me as I was, and I was happy, for a time. But seeing you and your sister . . . it's not that I don't love you girls, it's that being around you reminds me of that man, and I refuse to ever be him again."

"You don't have to be that man again, Dad," Sara leaned forward, earnestly. With some regret, beneath the table she clutched a syringe. "Let me help you, we can both start over."

She reached out a hand towards her father. Quentin looked at her outstretched fingers, his face softening for a moment. Softly, he spoke; "You never could look me in the eye when lying."

That was Sara's only warning before he slammed a fork into her hand and used his vampiric speed to grab a nearby waiter. He drained the human in seconds as the syringe tumbled out of Sara's uninjured hand. Dropping the dead human, Quentin headed for the exit. He paused, blood dripping down his chin, with a hint of remorse in his eyes. "Sorry, Sar-bear." Then he vanished into the night.

Sara yanked the fork out of her hand, to let the wound heal. She pulled out her phone, not worrying about the mess or the humans, at that exact second. Right then, her only concern was for her sister and her friends who Quentin would certainly be gunning for in that moment. That was what Ripper did when the leash snapped.

Unaware of the paternal threat, Laurel sat beside Oliver on the ledge of the clocktower. The giant face was directly behind them and all of Star Falls shown below. It was a beautiful sight and Laurel had no objections when Oliver wrapped one arm around her shoulders and stole a fry with the other hand. She leaned into him and sighed. It was for little moments like these that she would endure countless tortures, even mortality, because these moments made her feel truly alive. _He_ made her alive.

"Did you really mean it? Or were you just afraid you'd lose me, when you offered to take the cure?" Oliver asked softly.

Laurel shifted to look him in the eye. She'd promised no more secrets, no more lies to him, what felt like a lifetime ago. And she was determined to keep that promise, no matter how hard it was for her to bare her soul to him. "A bit of both, I think."

"I'm afraid too, you know. Afraid that if you go through with this, you'll lose something else that you love – being a vampire," Oliver said and when Laurel went to interrupt, he pressed a finger to her lips. "I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but neither one of us will be happy if you end up resenting me for making you human."

"I don't know, I'm pretty sexy when resentful," Laurel leaned in and playfully nipped at his neck.

"I'm serious, Laur, are you ready to give all this up?" Oliver gestured to the night that awaited them, Laurel's favorite time of day.

"A serious question, which deserves a serious answer," Laurel pulled back from him and took in the night as well. Then she smiled mischievously at her love. "Let me show you something first," she countered, and Oliver nodded in acceptance.

Laurel stood up and pulled Oliver to his feet as well. "Not here," he surmised.

"Ready?" she asked him. Oliver grinned at her and took her hand, linking their fingers. "I am now."

Then they jumped off the clocktower and into the night.

ARROW* (The Vampire Journals of Oliver Queen) *ARROW

Lyla found Nyssa nursing a bottle of bourbon all alone and commented on the riskiness of such a course of action. "I'd offer to help you, but," Lyla patted her stomach and managed to get a glimmer of a grin out of the somber woman.

"It's more for props anyway, in case Felicity comes to talk to me again."

"Oh-kay," Lyla decided it was best not to ask, so long as no fighting broke out between the two friends.

"You know I have twenty-two stitches and a fractured radius because of my friend. I'm only human after all, but all my friends are supernatural, except you."

"Thanks, I think."

"What are you doing here, Lyla?" Nyssa continued, ignoring Lyla's concerned expression.

"Trying to enjoy my bachelorette party, but I can't seem to stop eating," the professor replied and gestured to the container of cookies under one arm.

"No, I meant, what are you doing here in Star Falls? You and Dig are human, you're expecting twins, about to get married. Why are you still in this death pit? You have this amazing shot for a beautiful life with the man you love and you're putting it all at risk by not getting as far away from here as possible."

"Our friends are here, our lives," Lyla shrugged, not wanting to get into this argument with Nyssa when she'd already had to talk John out of running away.

"What lives? All of our friends are killers, facing dangers and death every week. And you want to bring your children up in this mess? Save yourself while you can Lyla, do it for your family. Your friends will understand," Nyssa said tiredly, then walked away. Leaving Lyla and the bottle behind.

Another bottle sat half-drank on the table behind Sara as she finished compelling the last of the humans to forget what they'd seen. On any other day (if she wasn't in a semi-committed relationship), Sara might've flirted with the dark blonde in her arms, but not tonight. "You had a nice, quiet drink and started to get tired. So, you left the bar early and had a very odd dream about a man who drank blood. I'd stay away from the horror movies for a while." Sara let the blonde go and watched the human exit the bar just as Jo slithered in.

"Nice legs on that one," Jo commented, grabbing the drink off the table and taking a swig.

"Nice of you to join me at last," Sara retorted.

"I'm here, aren't I? Speaking of, where is the rest of the nighttime heroes?"

"Roy and John are drunk, and Laurel and Oliver aren't picking up, so it's just you and me tonight," Sara commented as she headed back to the table where she'd sat with Quentin. She knelt to pick up the syringe she'd need later.

"You and me, that has a nice ring to it, I suppose. Guess we'll have to get used to soon enough," Jo said blandly in the tone that usually meant she was trying to poke the bear.

"What are you talking about?" Sara arched an eyebrow and Joanna blinked in surprise. "Ah, nothing."

"No, you meant something by that. What it is?" Sara stalked closer. After a moment's indecision (because she actually did care about the Lance sisters), Jo caved.

"I thought you knew, but it looks like Laurel hasn't broken the news yet – she has the cure, and she plans to take it with Oliver."

"No," Sara denied automatically. "Laurel wouldn't do that; she would've told me first." Yet the regret in Jo's eyes was proof enough, she wasn't lying. And Joanna could see it the moment Sara accepted the truth.

"Why don't we split up? To look for Quentin," Jo suggested to give Sara some space as she came to grips with Laurel's decision.

"Yeah, let's," Sara said dully. Then she sped out of the bar as quickly as Quentin had not that long ago.

Quentin, in the intervene, had found his way to another bar. This one almost closed for the night, except for two occupants. One of whom was of particular interest to him. He stepped inside and it didn't take long for Roy and John to spot him. "Quentin."

"You, you took my family from me," Quentin glared at Roy. "You ruined my plans, took everything, and left me with an insatiable hunger," he snapped. He took a threatening step forward.

Roy raised one hand and cast a spell in his mind. Quentin howled, clutching at his head as a burning pain ruptured from deep in his ears to the sockets of his eyes. "Yeah, I destroyed the Darhk, stopped Amanda from ever returning, and I'm not afraid of you. You're just one vampire. Leave now before you really get hurt," Roy said. He was confident as he released the spell.

He didn't notice the darts lying near Quentin until it was too late. The vampire recovered from the pain and flung one straight at Roy. The dart lodged in his throat, blood oozing down. Roy fell to his knees, clutching at his neck. Quentin rushed John next, slamming the ex-witch into a wall with vampiric speed and strength. Quentin's fangs came out and he aimed for John's neck.

"Please, don't. I want to meet my children," John gasped.

"Children?" Quentin cocked his head, a little reason breaking through the haze of hunger.

"My fiancé's pregnant. Twins. One of each if we're lucky," John said.

"Twins," Quentin repeated slowly, releasing John's throat. His vampire face receded, and he looked at the other man with pain in his eyes. "Good luck to you." Quentin blurred away.

John took a moment to catch his breath and marvel at how he was still alive. Then he hurried over to help Roy.

ARROW* (The Vampire Journals of Oliver Queen) *ARROW

Oliver and Laurel strolled down a dark residential street, hand-in-hand. Colonial houses lined the road with soaring trees that might've looked haunting to the human eye, but to a vampire's were filled life and color. Dozens of hearts beat in the gentle rhythms of sleep all along the road, protected from danger by ancient magic, though none of the humans knew it. This time belonged to the supernatural. Wolves roamed freely, stretching free of their constraints. Witches danced and spelled beneath the moon's watchful gaze. And vampires drank in the night, some turning their fantasies into reality, at least for a short while.

"What's your favorite thing about being a vampire?" Laurel asked Oliver.

"Easy, the strength and speed that allows me to protect others, especially those I love."

"Such a boy scout, you know there's no one around for you to impress with your heroic image," she teased.

"You're here," he retorted, serious.

"You impress me just being you," Laurel said after a breath of peering into his baby blues.

"What about you? What do you enjoy about being a vampire?" Oliver broke the moment, returning to the topic on hand.

"Everything. The speed and heightened senses. Looking eternally great in black leather jackets," Laurel tugged Oliver off the street and towards one house in particular. "But what I like the most is the power to get into people's heads."

She gestured behind them and the house rippled into a different building that was etched into Oliver's memories. "My old house." He smiled at Laurel, not minding the illusion because he'd felt her gentle touch onto his mental barriers and chose to let her in. He wandered up the steps, recalling fonder days, back when his parents were still alive and later when he lived there with his first guardian, Slade.

"You know, we shared our first kiss on this porch here. Another memory Lyla scrubbed away, probably for the best."

"Laurel," Oliver pulled her towards him as they stood on the edge of the porch. "Just because Lyla took those memories from me, doesn't change how I feel about you. As nice as this trip down memory lane is, it's just a trick, it isn't real. Not like you are."

"I know. That's my whole point. Being a vampire is living in fantasies, one after the other. I've lived a lot of fantasies over the years, and I could keep on living them if I had to, but I'd trade in all the fantasies in the world for one real life with you," Laurel pulled a vial out of her jacket and held it up to Oliver.

"The cure. You've had it on you this entire time?"

"Well, I couldn't exactly leave it next to the milk. Sara might've drunk it by mistake," Laurel joked to hide how nervous she was as Oliver took the vial of red liquid and powerful magic from her.

"Laurel, if we do this, there's no going back for you," Oliver hesitated.

"Ollie, you've wanted to be human ever since you were turned," she nudged his hand towards his mouth.

"I know, but you're impulsive and reckless. I don't want you to regret this decision down the road," Oliver continued to give her an out.

"I'm also deeply, and madly, in love with you, forever. No matter how long that's gonna be," Laurel promised, and Oliver could see the sincerity in her eyes. "I'm ready for a little reality, if you are."

Oliver smiled as he took the cure.

The memories slammed into him almost immediately. He was twenty-one again, a junior in college, and meeting Laurel for what he thought was the first time.

_Oliver took a seat in his Intro to Psychology course next to his new girlfriend, Sara. They were discussing dinner plans for that evening, when voices around them began to hush. Oliver looked up to see the new TA sauntering into the room. His brained short circuited for a moment at the sight of her tight jeans and black halter top – he didn't notice how Sara tensed beside him._

"_Hello, lovers. I'm Dinah Laurel Lance. I'm going to be assisting Dr. Schwartz this semester. If you'll all be patient, I'm going to run through a roll call, see if I can't learn all your names," she drawled, her eyes roving over everyone. Oliver would've sworn she lingered over him a little longer than the rest._

_Guiltily, he glanced at Sara, but found her attention was also riveted on the new TA. Oliver did his best to reign in his lustful thoughts. He really liked Sara after all. Yet there was no denying the electricity that sizzled between him and Laurel when she read off his name and their gazes connected._

That memory awakened another, more dormant one. Back to the very first time he'd met his great love. He'd been eighteen and acting out against his parents. It was stupid, the way he'd acted then, but back then he'd felt they didn't understand him and had never been in his shoes. Laurel had found him at a party one night, about to drive himself and a couple friends' home, even though they were all plastered. She'd wrangled the keys away from him, called a cab for his friends, and then taken him out to eat as he'd refused to tell her where he lived.

_Oliver followed the blonde in black into the Billy Belly Burger._ _The sobering part of himself said this was a bad idea. The grumbling in his stomach made up his mind for him. He found the blonde waiting for him at a booth and slid across from her. "Afraid I'll bite?" she flashed him her pearly whites. "Uh," Oliver's brain was still having trouble going full steam._

"_I hope you're a burger and fries kind of guy, I ordered for you," she continued, not at all perturbed at his lack of response. When the food arrived, she_ _had indeed order him a burger and fries, herself a milkshake. When he stared at the food, she snagged a couple of fries, and dipped one into her treat._

"_Fries and a milkshake, you that kind of girl?" he tried to play it cool._

"_If I am? That a deal-breaker?"_

Other memories swam in and out of focus until Oliver was able to filter through them to the present. He realized Laurel had him strung over her shoulders as she headed towards her car. With her vampiric strength she could easily carry him in her arms – and had on more than one occasion – but since they were within the city, where humans might see, she pretended to be supporting him as she hauled him along. He took his weight off her as he climbed to his feet.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty, you had me worried there. Where'd you go?"

"We were on our first date," Oliver murmured and grabbed the hood of the car to catch himself as another wave of memories washed over him.

_The first time they danced together was at his roommate's wedding. Laurel had invited herself as his plus one when Sara had been unable to make it. She wore violet with a flower in her braid. Their first few steps were awkward since Oliver didn't know where it was safe to put his hands. Laurel laughed off it off as she corrected his positioning and counted until he picked up the beat._

_He brushed back a lock of her hair. They stood on the pier off Starling Lake, the sun was setting as he leaned in. Her breath caught but she didn't pull away. Their lips met. Their first kiss._

_A fire crackled in the hearth of Lance lodge. They lay on thick blankets, hair wet but drying. Their soaked clothing was coming off, one article at a time. Her jacket. His shirt. Their pants. They kissed long and hard, the passion between them growing. And as the storm raged on outside, they made love for the first time._

"I'm remembering. My memories, I'm getting them back. The cure, it undid the compulsion," Oliver smiled.

He pulled out the switchblade he kept for protection. He picked his index finger and sliced it. Blood welled and stayed. "It worked."

"You're human again, how does that feel?" Laurel smiled nervously at him.

"Like I wanna kiss you," Oliver breathed.

And they kissed.

Laurel's phone rang. For a second, she continued to kiss Oliver, more than ready to ignore the call. He pulled back first, breathing heavy, because he needed to breathe again; "You should get that."

Grumbling under her breath, Laurel answered: "Aliens had better be invading."

"Please tell me you haven't taken the cure. Because Quentin's on a rampage and now would be a really bad time to be human," Sara replied with equal parts concern and hurt.

"I haven't. Where are you?" Laurel asked, mind quickly jumping into action, making plans. First, she'd get Oliver to safety, then met up with her sister to hunt their father down.

"What's going on? I can't hear anymore," Oliver reminded his girlfriend.

Unfortunately, before she could answer, Quentin arrived. He wasted no time in snapping his daughter's neck. Since she was still a vampire, it wasn't a lethal wrench, but it did knock her out of the game for the time it took her vampiric blood to heal the damage.

"I'm sorry. This isn't my fault. My daughters, they ruined me. They released the monster I tried so hard to keep in," Quentin whined to Oliver.

"Your daughters tried to help you."

"They ruined everything!" Quentin snapped. Oliver jolted, not wanting to show his fear but unable to quell the instinct to flee now that he was human again. He saw the hunger in Quentin's eyes the moment the vampire caught the scent of his blood from his finger-wound. Quentin's gaze zeroed in on Oliver's neck.

"You don't want to do that," Oliver warned him. He may have human again, but he'd always been a fighter.

"Yes, actually, I do," Quentin muttered gleefully a second before he lunged.

Oliver whipped up his uninjured hand and stabbed Quentin in the eye with his switchblade. Quentin reared back, howling. His hands cradled his face, blocking his vision, and Oliver took off running. Jitters' Café was close at hand and closed this late at night – or early morning, depending on how one looked at it. Oliver smashed the glass window next to the back door and let himself in. He found a heavy looking metal contained and shoved it in front of the back door. As he was pushing the blockade into place, another memory assaulted him.

_Oliver fell in his mad dash to get away from Sara and the terrifying truth she'd revealed to him. Maybe running into the woods hadn't been the best of ideas. There was a rustle of wind, then suddenly Laurel was before him, eying him hauntedly._

"_You're, you're like her, aren't you? One of them," he rose to his feet shakily._

"_One of what?" Laurel crooned, amusement in her expression._

"_A vampire," he said, the idea no longer as preposterous as it once had been._

_Laurel answered him with a wide grin that included her fangs._

_Flashforward less than a year and he was in a gym with Laurel, getting a private lesson. "Not like that," she huffed and corrected his stance from behind him. She grabbed his wrists and pulled them to the correct height and positioning. Her hand reached back to readjust his shoulders, then dropped to press into his stomach. "You have to keep your center of balance, which is right here. Loose this and it won't matter how much height or weight you have on an opponent; they'll beat you. Are you listening?"_

"_Uh," he coughed and tried to keep his mind on the lesson, not how warm Laurel felt pressed against him. "I understand."_

_Laurel was a great fighter, even Sara acknowledged her sister's skill was better than her own. That was why Oliver was taking lessons from her; he didn't want to remain useless in a fight, not anymore. The problem was that the more time he spent with his girlfriend's sister, the more he was beginning to realize how attracted to her he was, and not just her looks. Laurel was witty and sincere, with a deep kindness to her that was hidden under the caustic veneer she wore to protect herself from life's hurts._

"_Try again, and this time keep your center," Laurel barked at him as cool and distance as she always was when it was just the two of them._

You have a girlfriend; _he reminded his treacherous body. And that was probably for the best, considering the only other woman he was interested in had absolutely no interest in him._

Oliver blinked away the memories and refocused on the task at hand – namely, saving his sorry human hide, yet again. Still, part of him couldn't help but feel a little relief that it was his **human** life he had to protect, his blissfully mortal and non-bloodsucking life. He could hear Quentin as he reached the back door and discovered the barricade. That wouldn't hold him long, but Oliver was already where he needed to be. In the back storeroom of the café he moved some metal shelving aside and quickly pressed the brick that unlocked one of the hidden passages. Star Falls was known for these tunnels, but only among the locals. He pulled the shelves back into place as he slipped inside the awaiting passageway. Then he held his breath as he heard Quentin crashing into the room he'd just vacated.

ARROW* (The Vampire Journals of Oliver Queen) *ARROW

In the bar, Diggle had his hand pressed to Roy's throat, slowing the bleeding. He hadn't pulled the dart out yet as he continued to assess the severity of the wound.

"I've only treated a couple arterial neck wounds in the field before. Lucky for you, the dart doesn't appear to have punctured the trachea."

"Luck – y," Roy whispered. His eyes scowled at the indignity.

"I know, it doesn't feel like it, but it means I can do this," John pulled the dart out and quickly applied pressure with a cloth he'd found behind the counter.

Roy coughed but took a small breath a second later at John's encouragement. "That's it. Shallow breathes. I know you can't talk right now, but on the positive side, you're no longer the first on Amanda's most wanted list."

"Ly – la?"

"Yeah, her and the twins. Which is why I'm so glad you destroyed the Darhk and I hope you're right about Amanda never getting out."

"She . . . can't," Roy assured John.

"Hey, I trust you, there's no need for that. Save your energy, because it's time we get you off this floor and to proper treatment."

Roy gave a small nod in understanding. Then John helped him off the floor and tucked himself under Roy's shoulder before heading for the door. The glass of the door glinted as they made their escape.

The glass of the car window glinted under a streetlight as Sara finished talking with Oliver. At her feet, Laurel came to with a groan. Sara pocketed her phone and waited until Laurel rose to her feet. "Oliver's fine. He escaped through the tunnels. Quinten's still in the café."

Laurel straightened her jacket and flipped her hair back before looking at her sister. "He slipped the leash; you can't say I didn't warn you."

"Is that all you have to say?" Sara asked after a beat in which Laurel just watched her, waiting for her to make the next move.

"What else do you want me to say?" Laurel retorted in the flippant way she used to push people away, but which hadn't worked on her sister in years.

"How about the fact you had the cure? Or that you planned to take it with Oliver?"

"Oh, that."

"Yeah, that," Sara sat on the hood of the car, a clear sign she wasn't going anywhere until they had this conversation.

"See, that's why I didn't tell you. I knew you'd be mad."

"I'm not mad that you didn't tell me, I'm mad I had to find out from Jo. You hate the idea of a human life."

"I hate the idea of a life without Oliver more."

"What about me? Did you consider how I'd feel if I lost my sister?" Sara asked, upset.

"I knew exactly how you'd feel," Laurel answered, her heart a painful clump in her chest as she remembered all those times that she'd thought her baby sister dead; "Which is why I said nothing. Now, why don't we go get our father, before he kills again."

They both knew this decision wasn't easy for Laurel. They also knew now wasn't the time to have a big row about it. So, without another word, the sisters trooped into the closed café.

Inside, Quentin was staggering around, silent tears streaking down his cheeks. Thwarted of his prey, his anger had crested, and now only his grief remained – for the moment. He turned at the whisper of speeding cloth and found Sara watching him from the kitchen doorway.

"This is your fault. Yours and your sister's, I was a good person, I wasn't always this way," he rasped, closed fist pounding against his aching chest.

"I know and you can be that way again."

"No, no I can't. I won't. How can I ever be whole again without my family?"

"That's the grief talking, in time, you'll see you can be happy again. You'll find your control too," Sara assured her father. He laughed harshly.

"You'd like that wouldn't you. You want me to live always in fear of going over the edge, being sad and alone, pathetic. Just. Like. You," Quentin snapped, his anger back full force. "I'd rather you stake me now."

"We were your family once; we could be again. Live for us. Deep down, I know you still care for us, as we care for you," Sara pleaded ardently.

"You're looking me in the eye," Quentin noted, almost with surprise. "I always loved your eyes."

That was his tell, just before he vampire-sped at his daughter, a stake in his hand. Sara grabbed her dad's wrists, grappling with him to keep the stake away from her heart. He had the advantage of height and muscle, but he forgot one important detail. Laurel.

Just as he was about to get the upper hand – literally – Quentin went down. The syringe Sara had prepared to use on him earlier was stuck in the back of his neck. Behind him stood Laurel. She let her father drop and looked over her sister in concern. "Are you okay?"

"I'm good," Sara replied, regret in her eyes. An old dream at last dying in the face of her father's unrelenting rejection.

Laurel grabbed Sara's arm and tugged her into a bone-aching hug. "No matter what happens, you'll always have me," Laurel whispered into Sara's hair.

ARROW* (The Vampire Journals of Oliver Queen) *ARROW

Lyla rushed into the hospital and found John waiting for her with blood on his shirt. "John!" she cried, her hand going automatically to her mouth in worry.

"I'm alright, it's not my blood," he assured her, rubbing his hands down her arms.

"How's Roy?" she wanted to know, looking down the hall as if she could will him to appear and be okay.

"He's going to be fine. Laurel's giving him some of her blood now," John answered. "How are you and the babies?"

"We're fine," Lyla pressed his hand to her swollen womb. Then she glanced around at the nurses and doctors walking around and led him a little ways off. Where they were less likely to be overheard. "I think you're right, about wanting to disappear. You know your family better than I do. If you think this is the only way to protect them from an Orion merge, then let's leave tonight."

"What about the life we've built here, our family and friends? Are you really ready to walk away from them?" John asked, because he wanted her to be certain. There would be no going back once they did this. That was the only way they could ensure his family never found them, so that the twins wouldn't be used to strip Amanda of her power for good.

"You and the twins are my life," Lyla replied, cupping John's face; "All I care about is keeping our family safe."

John smiled and kissed her. When he pulled back, he murmured; "The wedding's only a couple days away. We can at least wait until then. So at least some of our family is with us to celebrate the occasion."

"Okay," Lyla agreed, nervous but determined. They would build a better life for their children, away from all the magic and murder, together.

At the same time, Laurel returned to her boarding house and found Oliver waiting for her. She smiled at the sight of him, forcing away the melancholy thoughts that plagued her on her sister's behalf and worry for those she called friends and family. When she was with Oliver, it was easy to do; to just live in the moment with him.

"Good news. Quentin's locked up and won't be getting out anytime soon. Roy's already griping about hospital food. John and Lyla are safely tucked away for the night, and my sister didn't rip my head off over my decision to take the cure. What about you?"

Laurel walked as she spoke, so that by the time she was done, she stood before Oliver. It was hard to miss the serious expression he wore. She reached up and brushed her fingers against his cheek in concern. He grabbed her hand.

"I remember everything Laurel."

"About time. I'll admit, I kind of felt like part of you was missing thanks to Lyla's memory suppression, but now you're back and human," Laurel smiled encouragingly at him. Trying to remind him that this was exactly what they both wanted.

"I remember the conversation we had, on the island," Oliver clarified. "I asked you to take the cure with me. You said you used to want to be human, but now the idea was the most miserable thing you could imagine."

"I was scared back then, Ollie. Afraid that I'd lose you if you became human, if we both did," she explained. She'd pushed him away every time he brought up the cure, because she'd been convinced their love wouldn't last. That one day he'd wake up, see her for the monster she believed she was, and no longer love her. He'd proved her wrong many times since then.

"But you also meant it," Oliver countered.

"I've changed since then."

"Not that much."

"Don't tell me what to think, Oliver," Laurel pulled back, getting annoyed with him.

"What does Sara think about the cure?" Oliver switched his approach. A silent acknowledgement that she'd been right, and he was trying to do better, to not assume he knew what was on her heart or mind.

"What Sara thinks doesn't matter, it's my choice. I choose you."

"Laurel, I love you more than life or death, whether vampire or human. All your flaws and your strengths. I will never stop loving you, but I will not let you take the cure for me. If you want to be with me, be with me. We don't both have to be human for that, despite what you think. You should only take the cure, if that's what you want for yourself. And you owe it to yourself to be 100% certain that being human is what you want. That means giving everyone important in your life a chance to talk you out of it, including yourself."

"Ollie," Laurel swallowed hard, unsure of what to say back that wasn't at least a partial lie or manipulation, because she'd promised to stop that.

He pulled her close and kissed her tenderly.

ARROW* (The Vampire Journals of Oliver Queen) *ARROW

Quentin woke in the cell once the sedative wore off. For a moment, his shoulders slumped in defeat and he let his grief well inside him again. Then he heard a soft scuffle and turned towards the iron door. "Who's there?"

"It's just me," Jo called back, moving into view in the small opening at the top of the door.

"Joanna, how good it is to see you. This, this is all a misunderstanding," Quentin gestured to the cage around him as he hustled to the door. "I'm alright now, I promise. I can show you, if you just let me out."

"I – " Joanna struggled to speak. Her hand reached for the handle. The sire bond between them making it hard for her to deny Quentin anything, but age had weakened his pull and experience told her that he lied.

"It's okay, I've got it from here," Sara broke Jo's internal war and severed the influence Quentin had over her.

"Goodbye, Quentin," Jo said, then hurried away.

Quentin slithered back from the door as Sara walked up to the opening. "I'm sorry it had to come to this," she spoke honestly.

"Of course you are, because that's what you do. You try to empathize, but you can't. You can't know the devastation I feel having lost something after cherishing it with all my being for 150 years," Quentin said, turning away from his daughter. "You want me to be the father you lost, the one you always dreamed I could be, but it's too late."

"It's not. That's the thing about immortality, we have all the time in the world. And maybe, after another 150 years, you'll be able to look at me and see a daughter again," Sara said without her usual brand of subtle hope. She spoke the words, but her heart wasn't in it. Quentin couldn't tell. Instead he whirled on her, lashing out again in his rage.

"You think it's that simple, but it's not. One day, you'll understand. One day, you'll know this horrible feeling of desolation, because I'm never going to stop. One day, I will get my family back, and when I do, I will destroy everything you hold dear."

Sara merely raised her eyebrows at his threat. "Good luck with that." Then she walked away. Only once she was out of sight and earshot, vampiric earshot, did she pulled out her phone and dial a familiar number. The person on the other end, thankfully, picked up.

"Hey Sara."

"Tommy, it's really good to hear your voice," she smiled sadly as she leaned against the wall.

"Talk to me, tell me what's wrong," he urged. He was there for her in the only way he could be at the moment, but it was what she needed and _that _eased the ache in her chest.


	7. The Laurel

_Disclaimer: see part one._

* * *

The Laurel

Laurel wore a body-length black coat over her formal dress when she gracefully slid into the back of the town car. The happy smile she gave Tommy could've lit an entire ballroom – it certainly blinded him for a minute.

"Have I thanked you yet? For saving me this evening?" he quipped.

"Only once this last half hour, I think. It really was no problem, you know I like parties," Laurel patted his knee fondly as they sat side-by-side. The town car rolled forward.

"You've never been to one of my dad's functions before. You might want to strangle me before the night is out," Tommy deadpanned. Laurel laughed and shook her head. Tommy smiled, pleased. His friend hadn't been in the best of moods lately, he was glad he could make her smile again. Then his phone chirped, and he made the mistake of glancing at the message.

**Tonight's the night! ; )**

Oliver had sent the text. Nothing serious to the casual observer, but Tommy knew exactly what the message meant. He was probably the only one in their group of friends who knew what Oliver had planned. And the truth ate at him.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Laurel touched his arm in concern.

"What? Oh, that, that was nothing. Just a joke. You know, you look very beautiful tonight. I'm going to be the envy of every man at the function and probably some ladies," Tommy rambled. He couldn't help it. When he was nervous words just seemed to vomit from his mouth.

"Tommy, what is it? You know you can trust me," she cajoled him.

"I can't – I promised," he muttered, shifting away from her. He rubbed the back of one hand against his brow. Then he took another look at Laurel and her patient-if-confused expression.

He knew what Oliver had planned. He knew what a mistake that plan would be if Oliver went through with it. Tommy knew it was a mistake because of the woman next to him. She was his ex and his friend. Though he still wished at times that they could be something more, he knew where her heart lay. All their friends did – except maybe Oliver. Tommy knew the truth would hurt her, but it would be better if she found out now when something could be done rather than later. Then it would be too late.

"Oliver's going to propose to Felicity, tonight, at the top of the watchtower," he blurted out.

"Oh," Laurel's eyes widened in shock. "Oh," pain swiftly followed, though she tried to mask it from him. "Oh."

"You can stop him. You should stop him," Tommy mentioned lightly. The words tasted like ash on his tongue, but they came out easier than expected.

"Why? Felicity is clearly who he wants. Let them be happy together," Laurel's tone was strangled and her grin too toothy.

"You know why," Tommy said, but Laurel shook her head resolutely. "We're going to your father's Christmas party, end of story."

Tommy let the matter drop. He could see Laurel had given up hope. He didn't know how to ease the hurt she was feeling right now. He wished he knew how he could help her. How he could help both his friends.

"Is he really going to propose in the watchtower?" Laurel asked quietly. Tommy nodded and barely caught the part she murmured to herself. "That was our spot."

Swallowing the lump in his throat that felt an awful lot like his heart, Tommy discreetly reached for his phone.

HIMYM*ARROW*HIMYM

Laurel swore to herself that she wasn't going to cry. This night was about helping Tommy at his dad's social event of the year. She wasn't going to mess up his night by feeling sorry for herself.

What did she even have to feel sorry about?

She was the one who kept pushing Ollie away. She should've realized he'd eventually, truly, give up and find someone else. . . but Felicity?

And the fact that he planned to propose in _their_ watchtower. Laurel's favorite place in the city. In the entire world . . .

It hurt far worse than Laurel imagined it ever could've. All it would take was one more whisper-blow and her heart might justly shatter in her chest.

Still, she persevered. She sought to lock up her pain, to put on a brave face, to be a good friend to Tommy. She'd help him shine for the evening. Then eat her sorrows in a pint of Rocky Road afterward.

The town car pulled to a stop and Laurel glanced out the window as she wiped at her cheeks. "Tommy, this isn't the Events Center. Where are we?"

"We're exactly where you need to be," Tommy replied, reaching over Laurel to open her door.

She took a closer look out the window and recognized the base of the watchtower.

"Tommy, no."

"Yes. If you truly love Oliver as you say you do, then it's time to fight for him. Show him how much he means to you and don't let him put a ring on anybody's finger but your own."

"Your dad's party," Laurel tried to think up an excuse.

"I'll be fine, you won't be if you don't do this. Take a chance Laurel, don't live the rest of your life with the regret of what-if," Tommy nudged her towards to the door.

Laurel glanced at the tower peak. Oliver was up there. This might be her last chance. Tommy was right. She had to take this. "Thank you, Tommy, thank you so much." She hugged him firm and swift, then slipped out of the town car.

Fear and anticipation mingled in her belly as she started for the door.

Tommy watched her go with longing. Accepting that his lingering feelings for Laurel would never be reciprocated. But if this worked and his two best friends found happiness with each other, then it would be worth it. And that thought eased the ache in his heart and brought a hint of a smile to his lips. Silently, he wished them both the best of luck.

HIMYM*ARROW*HIMYM

She found the door to the former bell room unlocked and entered cautiously. She couldn't see anyone and that had her taking a closer look around. Still, she couldn't spot him from his nest. He smiled as he watched her take in the decorations.

Dozens of candles lit the room in a dancing glow. The moon highlighted a path between the rose petals that blanketed the floor. Yellow, for her favorite color, and red, for his passion. At the largest window sat a round table for two. A bottle of champagne chilled with two slender glasses on a green tablecloth.

Laurel started for the table, biting her lower lip the way she always did when nervous. She paused mid-journey. Something on the ground had caught her eye. She bent down and picked up an ornate piece of paper. He wondered if she recognized the stock that he'd once used to write his plays on. Either way, the title on the page drew her in and she quickly skimmed what was written.

Oliver stepped out of his hiding place, sauntering closer to her unaware. He watched her expression as she took in the words he'd written. His smile couldn't help but grow, despite the nerves in his stomach.

And she read.

HIMYM*ARROW*HIMYM

**The Laurel:**

**Step One** – Admit to yourself you're still in love with Dinah Laurel Lance.

_Four months ago:_

_He couldn't say when he'd fallen for the woman that he considered his best friend. Maybe it was the first time they hung out, just the two of them, and she wore a suit and didn't complain when he took her to a strip club. Or that time she pretended to be his wife to scare off that two-night stand. Maybe it was the way she laughed at all his corny jokes. Or the way she only seemed to have eyes for him when he was talking, even if it was nonsense. He only knew that he had fallen in love and he hadn't been able to stop in the years since they broke up._

_Watching her walk away, in a sundress, the truth sucker-punched him in the gut. And he knew what he had to do._

**Step Two** – Confess your feelings to Laurel, but under the cover of being a good friend.

_Three months ago:_

_Oliver couldn't listen to it anymore. Laurel had been trying to break up with Thawne for the better part of an hour, but the egomaniac just couldn't comprehend that she wasn't that into him anymore (or like ever)._

"_Alright Thawne, you want the truth then I'll tell you it plain and simple," Oliver strode across the café to tower over the uncoupling couple._

"_Ollie, what are you doing?" Laurel rose with a hiss._

"_Please Laurel, there's no point in keeping it from him any longer. He deserves to know," Oliver declared dramatically, giving Laurel a look to play along. She bit her lip for a half second, then nodded, stepping out of his way._

"_The truth is Thawne, Laurel and I are madly in love," Oliver explained to the speechless scientist. "I know it sounds crazy, doesn't it? I used to think real love was only in the movies. That such feelings couldn't last in the real world. Then I met Laurel and she blasted her way past my defenses to the depths of my heart. It hurt, but I wouldn't change it for the world, because I am irrevocably and irreconcilably in love with the most amazing woman on the planet. Her smile is my sun. Her every breath my reason for being. I can't live without her – and I never want to."_

_Laurel gasped, moved at the depth of emotion he'd expressed. Deep down he knew she suspected every word to be true, but afterward he'd brushed it off as a bro looking out for his bro. She'd accepted his explanation as he'd known she would, because the idea of _them_ was terrifying._

No longer.

**Step Three** – Make a move on Laurel too early and purposefully get shot down – preferably while drunk to make the rejection sting less.

_Two and a half months ago:_

_Oliver and Laurel strolled down the street arm-in-arm. Or, more accurately, they held onto each other to stay upright as they stumbled down the sidewalk after a successful night clubbing._

"_Hey, remember that time Dig got so drunk he swore he could fly and . . . an' Lyla had to bribe him off the ledge," Laurel chortled her head on Oliver's shoulder._

"_Wasn't he high?"_

"_I dunno, maybe?" Laurel sniggered, and Oliver chuckled. "What do you think, am I drunk enough to fly tonight?"_

_Laurel released Oliver and danced ahead of him. She spread her arms out like wings and spun in a circle. "Easy there, pretty bird," Oliver had to catch her when she lost her footing._

_He wrapped an arm about her waist. He pulled her close as Laurel giggled. Reaching up with his free hand, he brushed back the hair around her face. For a long heartbeat, they stared at one and other. Their mutual attraction simmered between them. Then Oliver leaned in, to kiss Laurel, only for her fingers to stop him._

"_Ollie, I love spending time with you, being with you. But we've been down this path before. I'm tired of repeating past mistakes, aren't you?"_

"_I am," he said. _More than you know_, he added silently._

"_You'll always be my best friend, but tonight, this is where I leave you," she untangled herself from Oliver. She headed up the stairs to her apartment with a sad, apologetic smile. Oliver watched her with a dejected air. The moment she was out-of-sight though, he perked right back up_.

**Step Four** – Agree the two of you don't work.

"_I think we should talk, about what happened the other night, at my doorstep," Laurel began quite awkwardly. The two of them were sitting at the group's favorite booth in Ramon's Pub._

"_I know what you're going to say, and I completely agree," Oliver was quick to take the lead. He knew that would throw Laurel off her game, which made pulling the wool over her eyes easier._

"_You do?_

"_I do, and you're completely right. You're an amazing, beautiful woman, but clearly, you're way out of my league. We'll never work and that's I why I'm giving up. Tossing in the hat. I'm not going to chase you any longer – I'm done making a fool out of myself, out of us," he promised._

"_You are? I mean, that's great," Laurel agreed, but her expression quickly shadowed._

"_Great. Glad we had that talk, now if you'll excuse me, there's a blonde at the bar who looks just my type."_

_Oliver ducked away, then circled around to watch Laurel. He saw the moment she realized she didn't want him to stop, not really, and he grinned._

**Step Five** – Watch Laurel go nuts.

_Two months and a quarter ago:_

_Laurel was a bird of prey, carefully stalking her target from above, waiting to strike at the right moment. It was a refreshing, if somewhat life-threatening, experience to go from the chaser to the chased. Because it was Laurel, Oliver found the change delightful._

_She flirted with him more. Took him to all his favorite joints – strip clubs, night clubs, bars, and even to a couple gentlemen's clubs. She was game for all his old interests, so long as he kept his eyes off other women. So possessive, his pretty bird. She touched him more often too. Laurel was normally quite physically affectionate. Now she was more so. A pat on the arm, a quick squeeze of his shoulder, brushing closer in a crowded room. And the clothes she wore, nothing too revealing, but colors and styles she knew he enjoyed . . ._

_On the outside, Oliver played it cool. Treating her shift in attitude as an acknowledgement that his (former) party-hard, play-harder lifestyle was the best. He pretended like nothing was wrong, like he'd well and truly let her go. In reality, it took all his self-control to not to give in. He should've been sweating bullets at the effort it took to not pull her into the nearest dark room and show her how wild she was driving him. It helped that he knew Laurel wasn't ready – she hadn't acknowledged to herself why his giving up drove her crazy._

**Step Six** – Find the person who annoys Laurel the most and ask her for help.

_Two months ago:_

_Oliver dropped by Channel 52 to visit Laurel at work. While Laurel was broadcasting live, Oliver stepped away to visit the news station's IT department. He knocked on the door and a blonde-haired, bespectacled woman looked up. "Felicity Smoak?"_

"_So they tell me, and you're Oliver Queen, one of Laurel's friends. The one with the book on how to pick-up women. You and Laurel dated for a year, almost half of it in secret, and when your friends found out, they kept pressuring you two to be like a normal couple. And the fact that I know all this probably makes me sound like a stalker, but I'm not. Laurel just talks about you, a lot. So sometimes I feel like I know you so well. Like I know all her friends, really –_

"_Felicity, please stop."_

"_I babbled, I'm sorry. I only do that when I get nervous, which is like all the time. Like this one time –_

"_Felicity!" Oliver pressed a finger to her lips to shush her. "I'm here because I need your help with a surprise for Laurel."_

"_You're going to surprise Laurel? I love Laurel," Felicity squealed. And after he told her his plan, she shrieked so loud the glass rattled._

**Step Seven** – See doctor about possible ear drum damage.

**Step Eight **– Fake date Felicity.

_One month and three-quarters ago:_

_Laurel hadn't given up. Oliver had been her best friend these last seven years, ever since she met the gang at Ramon's. He was her rock. The only man who could make her smile no matter how down she was feeling. For crying out loud, he was the first person she turned to when she learned she couldn't have children. Yet the second he said he was done trying to catch her, she felt her axis tilt. She could practically feel him pulling away in that moment, cutting all ties to her, and that wouldn't do. She needed Ollie, she lo –_

_She was determined to get him back. When her initial tactics failed – flirting, bro-ing out – she decided on a more direct approach. She showed up at his doorstep in lacey lingerie and a skimpy black robe._

"_Hey, Laur . . . el, what can I do for you?" she noticed the way his brain stuttered at the sight of her. How his eyes roved before jumping back to her face. She gave him a sultry smile, reaching up to tug at his tie. _

"_I thought we might spend the night in, just the two of us," she murmured low. Oliver gulped._

"_Is that Laurel I hear?" Felicity called from inside Oliver's apartment. "Tell her she's welcome to join our next round of Arkham Asylum."_

"_Is that Felicity? What is she doing here?" Laurel snapped._

"_I invited her – as my date," Oliver admitted quietly._

_Laurel felt her heart plummet._

**Step Nine** – Wait for Laurel to inevitably break-in to your place in search of the Playbook.

_One and a half months ago:_

_With Felicity playing the besotted new girlfriend to a tee, Laurel decided to haul out the big guns in order to breakup Oliver and Fefe. In her mind, this meant showing Felicity the entire Playbook on all the ways Oliver had picked up women over the years. The good, the bad, and the downright manipulative._

_Having expected as much, Oliver easily monitored his pretty bird using his home security system. Then he called Felicity to have her meet him at his place so they could enact the next step in his plan._

**Step Ten** – Have your first fake fight with Felicity.

_Oliver pulled Felicity out onto his balcony and shut the door so those inside couldn't hear what was really being said. With an upset expression, he gestured broadly while saying; "Thank you, Felicity. This is going even better than expected."_

_Shaking her finger at him and frowning, she answered: "I know. I'm so excited, but what are Tommy and Lyla doing here?"_

"_I don't know. My friends have no respect for personal boundaries," Oliver sighed and caved his shoulders in a defeated stance._

_Smiling triumphantly, Felicity handed the Playbook back to him and they headed back inside. Both of them pretended to be oblivious to the fact two of his friends and Laurel were currently hiding behind his couch._

**Step Eleven** – Burn the Playbook for Felicity – and actually burn it.

_He tossed the Playbook into a metal trash bin first. Then lit the match and dropped it without a moment of hesitation. Watching the pages burn, Oliver felt giddy. The smile that broke out was entirely real. He was happy to see that last token of his past go up in flames. He'd moved on, become a newer, better version of himself. He'd changed for himself but had found the process brought him closer to his friends and family also._

_He didn't want any more meaningless sex with women whose names he never bothered to learn. He didn't want to party hard, play harder. That didn't mean he didn't enjoy a good night out, especially with his friends, and Laurel. He just didn't need to be the life of the party anymore. He didn't need the Playbook either._

**Step Twelve** – Monitor the intervention your friends will undoubtably give Laurel.

_One month ago:_

"_There's nothing wrong with me," Laurel denied, not for the first time since her friends sat her down on the couch in Lyla and John's living room._

"_You nearly gorged out a girl's eyes because she wouldn't stop looking at Oliver last week," Diggle reminded her._

"_She was ogling him like some kind of meat," Laurel defended her actions._

"_She twelve and Ollie was performing a magic trick," Tommy countered. Laurel had the good grace to look abashed._

"_Your behavior these last few weeks, it's begun to concern all of us, honey," Lyla patted her knee._

"_It's gone from immature to almost manic overnight," Diggle mentioned, and Lyla shot her husband a look to shut up._

"_You don't understand," Laurel shook her head. She stood up, unable to keep still any longer._

"_Understand what? Oliver's trying to have something real with Felicity and you're acting like a jealous toddler who doesn't want to share," Tommy said._

"_It's not like that," Laurel ran her hand through her hair in frustration._

"_Then tell us, what are we not seeing," John pushed. He stood in Laurel's path, halting her march._

"_I'm still in love with him, okay!" the words spilled forth. Almost as much a surprise to the woman confessing them as they were rest of her friends. "I'm in love with Oliver, and I don't want to lose him."_

**Step Thirteen** – In case your friends do their job too well, give Laurel hope for the two of you.

_Half a month ago:_

_Watching Laurel pull back, to let him go, to be happy even if he wasn't with her, was difficult. Yet when Laurel put her mind to something, she didn't back down. She stopped chasing him and gave him space to date Felicity. He felt her absence keenly and moved to draw her back to him – as a friend. With his usual charm, Oliver managed to talk Laurel into joining him and Felicity one night for dinner. Felicity "cancelled" at the last minute, so it was just the two of them._

"_This is nice – I mean, I've missed spending time with you, hearing about your day," Oliver commented. His plan was to reminisce about their good times together, including a number of their romantic moments._

_He didn't plan on the band playing_ their _song. The_ _one they danced to at Ray and Nora's wedding, where they showed Keystone how to dance. Once he recognized the opening number, he took the gift and teased Laurel out onto the dance floor with him._

_They were perfectly in-sync, step-for-step. They spun and slid across the dance floor, lost to the rhythm of the fast beat with only eyes for each other. If Oliver's hands lingered or he held Laurel closer than necessary, they were moving too quickly for her to comment on his actions. She would remember though, so he greedily took every chance he could to show her how he felt, even if he couldn't say the words._

_And when he lowered her back to her feet, he held her close to steady her. Peering into her green eyes, Oliver could see she felt their smoldering attraction as well._

"_That was, uh . . . we should . . . I, I need to go. Call it a night. Have an early morning tomorrow," she stammered, breaking away._

_Oliver didn't bother to hide his disappointment, but swiftly volunteered to walk her home._

_The kiss, at least, was planned – on his part._

_When Laurel went to graze his cheek, he turned, pretending to have something to say. Their lips brushed and a jolt slammed through them both. They laughed it off, but as Oliver walked away, he heard Laurel begin to berate herself, and he grinned._

**Step Fourteen** – Tell only Tommy that you plan to propose to Felicity and swear him to secrecy.

_One week ago:_

"_Oliver, what's all this?" Tommy gestured to the box of candles and bags of rose petals in Ollie's closet. He was supposed to be helping Oliver find a "missing" heirloom cufflink._

"_If I tell you, you have to swear you won't tell anyone and I mean anyone," Oliver bounced on his feet, almost giddy with excitement._

"_I swear," Tommy said solemnly, hand over heart._

_Oliver pulled out a little black box and revealed a rings with diamond center and yellow sapphires._

_Telling Tommy was the trickiest part of the plan, yet it had to be done. Oliver needed to know if his best bro had finally let go of Laurel. And if Tommy told Laurel, he'd also be giving his blessing, which Oliver badly wanted. He didn't need it, but he wanted Tommy's support after all these years of friendship. He knew Laurel would want Tommy's support too, because this would be a big change for Oliver and Laurel, and they'd need their friends backing them 100%. _

**Step Fifteen** – Laurel arrives at the top of the watchtower.

_Oh, how she took his breath away when she appeared. He'd never felt more anxious and confident in his life._

**Step Sixteen** – Laurel finds the secret, final page to the Playbook. The last play you'll ever run.

_Laurel could hardly breath. Or maybe she was hyperventilating. She definitely couldn't believe what she was reading. Wasn't sure how she was feeling, besides a lot._

**Step Seventeen** – Laurel looks up to discover she's no longer alone.

Laurel read the last line on the page and immediately glanced up. She found Oliver standing in front of her wearing a nervous grin and a fancier than normal suit. She lowered the paper, anger settling in.

"Really Oliver, you think after all this I'm going to want to date you again? You lied to me and manipulated me for months. This," she shook the page; "This isn't proof of your love for me, it's a show of how callus you are for toying with me, treating my feelings like some kind of game. So thank you, Ollie, for curing me of my blinders when it comes to you, for reminding me the kind of man you really are. And all the reasons why we'll never work –

"Turn it over," Oliver interrupted gently when Laurel paused for a breath.

Grumpily, she obeyed and read:

**Step Eighteen** – Hope she says yes.

**The Laurel** fluttered to the ground when she discovered Oliver down on one knee, a yellow and white engagement ring in his hand.

"You're right, pretty bird. My playbook was filled with the lies and manipulations I used on women – and myself. Because I was terrified of a real relationship, of being rejected. I hid from everyone and everything; my fears, responsibility, the expectations of my family. Until I met you. You challenged me to be brave, to be true to who I am, and take chances, no matter the personal cost. You helped me to grow up, to be the man I want to be," Oliver beamed with the love he felt for Laurel and all that she'd done for him;

"I hated running a play on you, Laurel, but I know you. You're as terrified as commitment as I am. The only way I could see you fighting for us was to make you believe you'd lost me. But manipulating you that way, that isn't who I want to be, it isn't who I am anymore. It's a part of my past that I hope you can accept, and I promise you, it won't be a part of our future, if you'll have me. I promise that from this day forward I will always be honest with you. I will love and cherish you with every breath in my body. You've the love of my life, my best friend, and I want to spend the rest of my days with you – will you, Dinah Laurel Lance, marry me?"

HIMYM*ARROW*HIMYM

_Several years ago:_

_Tommy had brought his latest girlfriend to meet the gang (though no one could quite recall the raven-haired woman's name later). They'd met up at Ramon's, like they normally did. Lyla and John were being their normal selves – equal parts mushy couple and privacy-prying friends. Tommy had been trying to impress his date and Oliver had taken something he'd said out of context and turned it into an innuendo. Laurel had laughed and swiftly joined in mercilessly teasing their friend. The two of them were well adept at playing off each other, making the other laugh as they bumped shoulders and shared food at the table._

"_So, how long have you two been a couple?" Lady Shiva asked benignly._

"_A couple? Ollie and me? No, no, no, no no-no-no, no. No. No. No, no, no-no, no. No. No, no," Laurel shook her head in denial._

"_I'm sorry, I just thought," Lady Shiva gestured at how close the two sat, sharing the same space. Laurel quickly shifted away, ready to deny some more._

"_Really? Eighteen no's?" Oliver pouted at Laurel. _

He only needed one yes.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, she said yes. I just couldn't decide if she said it nineteen times or just a couple, but she definitely said yes more than once. And unlike in the show (Arrow or HIMYM, it's Lauriver/Swarkles forever for me).

I'd like to write a story that focuses more on Theroy or Dyla with background other couples, like Lauriver and Flommy, but I'm having trouble coming up with a TV show or book to use - suggestions would be appreciated. Thanks for reading!


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